


The Kiss That Counted

by hummingbirdswords



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 121,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdswords/pseuds/hummingbirdswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(On a small hiatus - will return to finish)</p><p>One kiss starts it all. Emma Swan's life gets turned upside down after sharing a bed with Regina Mills in the Underworld, or perhaps it's been upside down all this time and the night she spends sleeping beside Regina makes Emma see things clearly for the first time in a long time.</p><p>This story follows Emma's journey through life as she questions the meaning of kisses, searches for and finds a new home, grows closer to her family, and discovers that real love doesn't make you feel good one minute and then worthless the next.</p><p>(or, the one where I follow a list of kiss prompts and show the development of Emma and Regina's relationship through kisses, <em>because why not?</em>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hook is in the first two chapters. While Hook and Emma's relationship does come up, it's not written in such a way that the romance between them is the focus (or even really there). They've not yet fixed things, and, well, they won't get the chance to. 
> 
> Robin is mentioned in the first two chapters (and a few times later, as is Hook), but he never actually speaks or does anything. He's barely even there.
> 
> Initially, I had planned on writing a bunch of one-shots using [this](http://onceupona-prompt.tumblr.com/post/135706669391/types-of-kisses-part-i-wake-up-kisses-pressed) list for prompts. But once I got started on my first one and a story started coming together, I decided on this idea instead. I didn't use the whole list, but most of them will appear in the fic.
> 
> **this fic includes a lot of non-sexual intimacy, but it also includes explicit sex scenes later on in the fic; sorry for any confusion about the tags**

**a single loving kiss left on the other’s forehead when they fall asleep snuggled close together**

 

Perhaps Emma’s making up for lost time when she sneaks into the apartment at two o’clock in the morning. She had not had the chance to actually sneak in when she was a teenager, only quietly escaping homes when she ran away from them. Now she’s in her thirties, and it’s not like there’s really much sneaking in when her parents have always had an open door policy sort of thing where the front door is rarely ever locked. (Does the Underworld apartment really count as theirs, though? It’s set up for them, but they’re not technically dead yet. Emma frowns at herself; they need to get home so Emma can stop having such odd thoughts and questions she can’t answer.)

 

It’s actually a bit anticlimactic if you ask Emma. She’s expecting to have to go through a lot more than just turning a knob and walking up the stairs. Her parents don’t even stir in the bed on the first floor. Nobody’s waiting up for her in the dark, waiting by a lamp to flood the room with light the moment she thinks she’s in the clear like in the movies. Really, it’s actually kind of lame how easy they made this for her. Not that she should have to answer questions about her whereabouts at her age. It’s just that, well, she kinda, maybe wants that. Which is stupid and ridiculous, but it’s something that she's never experienced and finds that, for some strange reason, she actually expects from the parents who had at one point actually made her feel like they were trying to cram twenty-eight missed years of being parents into a single week.

 

Emma’s halfway up the stairs when she remembers that Regina’s sleeping up there, Regina and Robin. She pulls a face and starts to turn away, something about the thought of finding out what he looks like when he’s sleeping making her stomach churn. Robin’s an okay guy, Emma thinks – guesses, really, since she doesn’t know much about him. Regina likes him, and that’s really enough for Emma since she doesn’t care enough to make an actual opinion about him. He’s proven himself helpful at times, so he hasn’t made it to her shit list. For now, that’s enough. She has too much to worry about to devote any of her time to figuring him out right now.

 

But when she starts making her way back down the stairs, Emma hears her name and stops dead in her tracks, whipping her head around to look over her shoulder. That had been Regina’s voice, quiet in the silence of the night. It couldn’t have been more than a whisper, but the hair on the back of her neck stands up at the sound of it and something inside of Emma pulls as though it’s reaching out towards the sound of her name.

 

“Regina?” Emma questions just as quietly, turning around and slowly taking the steps two at a time.

 

Regina’s sitting up in the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles, the whites of her eyes glittering in the dark as she meets Emma’s gaze. To Emma’s surprise, it’s not Robin who sleeps beside Regina. Curled up with his back to his mother, their teenage son snores lightly. From the looks of it, Regina had been stroking his hair while he slept. Her hand now rests on the top of his pillow. That makes Emma smile as she takes the last two steps and enters the Underworld version of what used to be her and Henry’s space in her parents’ apartment before Henry went back to living with Regina full-time.

 

“You’re up late,” Emma comments as she looks around the room.

 

“And you were out late,” Regina counters quietly, an observation instead of an accusation. “I thought you were planning on spending the night at Underbrooke’s version of your house. Isn’t that where your pirate is?”

 

Emma stares blankly at Regina for a moment before simply shrugging her shoulders. Hook disappeared on her, and Emma’s really not in the mood to talk about that right now. “Where’s Robin?” Emma asks instead.

 

“Downstairs, I assume. After dinner at the diner, your parents and I brought Henry back here. He came upstairs to brainstorm ideas, insisted on being alone again.” Regina rolls her eyes with an affectionate smile, stroking the top of Henry’s head. “Your parents and I did the same down in the kitchen. I assumed Robin stayed with you and Hook when we left, but I happened to glance out of the window and saw the two of you without him. I didn’t get the chance to ask, but I believe he went for a walk in the woods.

 

“He feels more comfortable out in nature than he does indoors,” she explains. “I came up here to check on Henry and found him asleep. I chose to stay upstairs with him, and I have not left his side since.”

 

Emma nods slowly and slides her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “Aren’t you tired? You didn’t sleep much the night before either. Why are you up?”

 

Regina looks mildly surprised by the question, perhaps by the genuine concern in Emma’s tone, too. "Honestly, it has been months since I’ve had the pleasure of being able to enjoy a proper night’s rest. I’m afraid my body no longer handles stress as easily as it used to. I find that I am unable to sleep when I am under a lot of it.”

 

Emma frowns, feeling guilty. It’s her fault Regina’s here and not safe at home with Henry and Robin. She’s there because of Emma’s rescue mission. She’s there because of Emma. She had chosen to stay and help Emma when her mother gave her the opportunity to leave, and now they’re all stuck until they find a way out.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help? There’s some tea downstairs if you want me to make you some.”

 

Regina smiles faintly. “No, thank you, dear. I’m quite all right.”

 

Emma wants to offer something else, but she doesn’t have anything to offer. She doesn’t know how to help someone get to sleep. She had never had anybody do that for her, so she had never learned. She only knows what she’s gathered from watching other people, observing what others do in situations like this. She remembers David making Snow tea when she was having nightmares after Cora’s death, but that’s all she’s got in her How to Help Someone Sleep Kit. She’s basically useless when it comes to taking care of others. Her frown pulls lower on her face, and her brow furrows.

 

“Do you plan on standing there all night? I didn’t call you up here to guard us.”

 

“Oh.” Emma looks around the room, not wanting to leave. “You think I could sleep up here with you two? I can camp out on the floor over there.” She gestures with her head to the rug. There are some pillows and blankets stored over there just like back in Storybrooke. Even in the dark, Emma can clearly see Regina’s legendary ‘don’t be stupid, Emma’ look. “You won’t even know I’m up here,” she tries, rocking on her feet slightly. “I can be as quiet as a mouse.”

 

“Neither mice nor you are capable of going unnoticed, Miss Swan.”

 

“Right. Bull in a china shop,” Emma says with a small smirk that Regina returns as she carefully scoots over closer to Henry.

 

“There’s enough room for all three of us in the bed, Emma,” Regina tells her after Emma chooses to ignore the silent invitation she had noticed.

 

It’s not that she has a problem sharing a bed. She’s shared many in her lifetime – as a child in the system, with Neal before she was locked up, when crashing at people’s houses before she got her first apartment, with Ruby a couple of times when they’d spent the night drinking together before the curse was broken, with Henry, and even once before she’d slept beside Regina (but on the ground in Neverland wasn’t exactly the same as in an actual bed). Emma doesn’t hesitate at the foot of the bed because she doesn’t want to sleep next to either of its occupants. Emma hesitates because Regina’s stroking Henry’s hair again and the moment looks like something she shouldn’t be a part of. Regina looks completely at ease beside Henry, and now she’s inviting Emma to lie on the other side of her. Emma doesn’t want to ruin the mood, doesn’t want to take away from Regina’s peace.

 

Regina huffs when Emma continues to stand there silently. “If you’re waiting for a formal invitation–”

 

“No, it’s not that,” she says, and she quickly looks away when she feels the heat crawling up the back of her neck and flushing her cheeks. Thankfully, it’s too dark for Regina to notice that Emma’s blushing. She shrugs off her jacket and folds it. “You sure you’re okay with this? I mean, with me sleeping beside you, ‘cause I really don’t mind taking the floor. I’ve slept in worse places.”

 

“While I’m sure you have, I’m also fairly certain that you would prefer not having to sleep on the cold floor when there’s a perfectly good bed right here that I am willing to share with you. And, to be honest, I would much prefer it if you slept in the bed as well.”

 

So Emma pulls off her long-sleeve shirt and puts it off to the side with her jacket before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She removes her shoes and socks, and then she puts her hair into a braid like she has gotten into the habit of doing before sleeping whenever they're away from home longer than a day or two. It’s the best option for keeping it as tangle-free as possible, and it makes it more manageable the next morning. She kinda wishes she had stayed at the empty house instead of following the annoying pull that called her back to the apartment after Killian left her alone. She hadn’t wanted to stay there by herself, but now she has to sleep in her pants when she could have stripped down and slept more comfortably while alone.

 

“Last chance to make me sleep on the floor,” Emma murmurs once she’s laying down beside Regina, looking at the upright woman’s lap. She doesn’t really want to go, but she also hates the idea of being where she’s not actually wanted.

 

“If you don’t shut up and go to sleep, Emma, you _will_ end up on the floor. Except it will be because I pushed you there instead of by choice.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’d like to see you try,” she mumbles sleepily, already feeling herself start to drift off – which is probably a stupid thing to say to a woman who can easily be baited by Emma, but her sleep-hungry brain doesn’t realize it until Regina’s hand is on her hip.

 

“Really, dear?”

 

Emma wraps her arm around Regina’s thighs and holds on tight. “No, no, not really. If you push me, I’m taking you with me.”

 

Regina scoffs. “As if I would let you.”

 

Emma grins and shuffles closer to Regina. She’s warm and it’s pure instinct that brings her closer to the seated woman, her head almost in her lap. When she realizes what she’s doing, she expects to feel Regina stiffen and tell her to move back over – or to get up because she’s changed her mind. She expects Regina to question what Emma thinks she’s doing. (Good thing she doesn’t, because Emma’s already half-asleep and is finding Regina’s body heat too inviting to consider why she shouldn’t be wrapping herself around her son’s other mother’s legs.) She expects herself to correct her behavior and pull her arms away from Regina’s unsurprisingly comfortable thighs. Instead, after a moment of complete stillness, Regina’s fingers lightly scrape across the top of Emma’s head like she’d been doing with Henry.

 

Emma bites the inside of her cheek to keep quiet, afraid of saying something that will make Regina stop. She worries that all it would take is one wrong move and then Regina would regret showing her this new level of affection. So Emma focuses on her breathing so her breaths aren’t too loud. Emma makes sure she doesn’t move her hand on Regina’s thigh even an inch. Emma keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t give voice to the thoughts that swirl around her head as she sinks further and further into bliss with each slow drag of Regina’s fingernails.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma licks her lips and tastes honey on them. It’s sweet and thick on her lips, sticky. She pulls her lower lip into her mouth and sucks on it, but a moment later the taste is gone.

 

Frowning, Emma opens her eyes and discovers she’s fallen asleep and has just awoken from a strange dream where she was submerged in a jar of honey. It’s quite possibly the weirdest dream she’s had in a long time, but she doesn’t have time to think about why she’d been dreaming of swimming in honey because her brain chooses to focus on the feeling of soft curves pressed against her body. And, _huh?_

 

Emma blinks a few times to clear her blurry vision. The room is still dark, but it’s not so dark that she doesn’t recognize the face beside her own. She would recognize that lip scar anywhere, she thinks, licking her lips as she traces it with her eyes in the dark-gray light of the room. Her heart starts to beat with a little extra force when she starts noticing other small details about Regina’s body and her own.

 

Her thigh is hot underneath the weight of Regina’s leg, one of her legs having slipped between Regina’s at some point after Regina apparently lay down to sleep. There’s a hand underneath the back of her tank top, fingers on the bare skin of her back; Regina’s skin is on her skin, and it’s ridiculous how heavy her breath gets when she starts thinking about it. Hair tickles her forehead, hair that does not belong to her. Regina’s holding her. _Regina is holding her!_

 

No, Emma corrects a second later, internally freaking out, they’re holding each other. She suddenly realizes that her arm is wrapped around Regina, too, and her grip is tight around Regina’s lithe body. Her hand loosens and releases the soft sweater she’d bunched up in her fist, and the first irrational thought she has after that is that Regina’s going to kill her if she’d wrinkled her shirt. (If she doesn’t kill her first for snuggling up against her in the middle of the night, she thinks, because there’s no doubt in her mind this was somehow her doing – even if Regina’s just as wrapped around her as Emma is Regina.)

 

How the hell do you untangle yourself from a human knot without waking up the person whose limbs are wrapped around your own?

 

Emma’s done her fair share of getting up and leaving in the middle of the night, but it had always been after a one-nighter with someone who had known that was all it was. If she ever fell asleep in their bed, there was never any concern about being careful about waking them up as she got out of bed. She’s never had to try to pull herself away from someone like this. And this is different. She’s not trying to get away from some rando person she banged the night before. Emma is trying to save herself from the embarrassment of having Regina, her friend, push her away when she discovers how Emma had clung to her in her sleep.

 

Emma slowly lifts her head and looks over Regina’s shoulder. Henry’s still fast asleep, on his side, facing the wall. The kid could probably sleep through an earthquake if he was tired enough. She briefly wonders if that’s something he gets from Regina, because Emma can’t sleep like the dead even when she’s exhausted. That would be lovely if Regina is a heavier sleeper, but Emma knows her luck and doesn’t even bother crossing her fingers for that one.

 

 _Okay_ , she mentally says as she carefully pulls her arm away from Regina. _You can do this._

 

She first goes for Regina’s hand underneath her shirt. She refuses to acknowledge how incredible the warmth flowing from Regina’s hand feels on her naked skin. She wonders how the hand had even gotten under there. Had her shirt ridden up in her sleep? Had Regina done that herself? It doesn’t matter, Emma knows; either way, Regina’s hand needs to be off her person right away.

 

It’s a lot easier in her head, this untangling. Regina doesn’t awaken as Emma lightly wraps her fingers around Regina’s wrist, but she does protest to being moved. Regina’s nails are neatly trimmed, short, well-taken care of, but when they dig into Emma’s back they elicit a sharp hiss from Emma as she arches into Regina’s body and away from the hand that obviously doesn’t want to be moved. It hurts for a few seconds, but the sting fades quickly.

 

 _Okay_ , she mentally says to herself again, _new idea._

 

Instead of going straight to pulling Regina off of her, she untangles their lower halves. Thankfully, Regina barely even responds to Emma pulling her thigh from between Regina’s legs. In fact, it’s Emma who physically reacts to that, the slightest of shivers working through her body as she leaves behind the source of heat that had kept her thigh nice and toasty. She swallows thickly when she thinks too hard about where her thigh had been, and the need to put some space between them grows, makes the back of her neck prickle. (Has her heart always beat this quickly?)

 

Carefully, Emma starts to sit up, practically holding her breath as she uses her arm to lift herself. Her eyes are trained on Regina’s face, watching for the fluttering of lashes, the twitch of a lip or cheek, anything that might ruin her plans to slide away from the brunette before she catches Emma in her embrace.

 

The bed creaks and Emma’s eyes widen. Regina’s breath comes out a little louder, a little harder. Emma feels it on her cheek.

 

She swallows and shifts her hips, moving towards the edge of the mattress. There’s not much room left with the three of them sharing one bed, but there’s enough.

 

Heart pounding, Emma reaches for Regina’s arm again. This time, she twists away from Regina’s hand, which momentarily makes her lean in closer. It means that when she goes to pull Regina’s hand from her back, the brunette isn’t holding her as tightly. It means that she can safely slide Regina’s hand down the small of her back and out from under her shirt. And she does so with only the smallest of quiet groans forming in her throat when an unexpected sensation flutters somewhere deep from the way Regina’s fingers trail against her skin. It would freak her out if she wasn’t too busy mentally congratulating herself.

 

Her mental celebration is cut short when not even two seconds later Regina pushes her to the floor and she falls with a hard _thunk_. “Holy fucking shit,” she hisses, and she swears her head is cracked opened or something else terrible like that because it’s pounding like a damn war drum before the biggest battle known to the human race. This is the last time she agrees to sleep with Regina Mills. The last time!

 

And then Regina peers over the edge of the bed, her eyes glaring dangerously at Emma like _she_ was the one to be pushed onto the floor. “What on earth are you doing down there, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma narrows her eyes, because _seriously?_ _What the hell did it look like she was doing?_ “Oh, I don’t know. I thought it looked pretty damn comfortable down here and decided to just roll myself off the bed and lay down.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes in that way she does that makes it seem like Emma’s somehow the biggest annoyance she’s ever known. And normally Emma would just ignore it, but Regina’s the reason she’s on the goddamn floor and everything’s hurting her.

 

“You pushed me,” she accuses in a sharp whisper. “Like seriously pushed me off the bed in your sleep. And it hurt.”

 

“Oh,” Regina says, and her face softens for a second or two before her eyes twinkle mischievously. “You did tell me you’d like to see me try, did you not?”

 

Emma growls under her breath, which makes Regina smile a little, even though her eyes fill with a bit of concern as they travel over Emma’s body spread out on the floor. “You are the worst. You know that, right?”

 

“Oh, hush up, dear, and let me help you get back into bed,” Regina says as she sits up enough so that when she holds out her hand for Emma, she’d actually be able to offer real assistance.

 

But Emma sees a golden opportunity and goes for it. Instead of taking Regina’s hand to pull herself up from the hard floor, she yanks Regina towards her so the brunette comes crashing down on top of her. (Which,  _ouch._  She probably should have thought about the impact of the fall before pulling Regina down, maybe figured out how to avoid getting elbowed in the gut.)

 

“Miss Swan,” Regina hisses. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asks in a harsh whisper, sneering at Emma as she looks down at her, her dark hair framing her face as she pushes herself up onto the hands that are on either side of Emma’s body.

 

Emma swallows thickly, hyperaware of all the places Regina’s once again touching her. And it’s worst this time, because Emma’s speechless and looking into dark, dark eyes that aren’t as full of anger as she expected they would be. There’s something she’s never seen in Regina’s eyes before, but it’s gone too quickly for Emma to figure out what it is. And suddenly, or maybe not that suddenly after waking up with Regina’s body pressed up against her, she wants to do something really stupid like kiss Regina Mills on the mouth. She licks her lips and looks down to where their breasts touch and both of their hearts are beating quickly. (And, okay, maybe she wants to do more than kiss Regina on the mouth.)

 

Her eyes dart back up to Regina’s eyes, and all the fire in them hasn’t so much disappeared as it has... _t_ _ransformed_. Regina’s looking back at Emma like she’s thinking the same thing as Emma – which is impossible, right? Regina’s not thinking about kissing her. Regina’s not enjoying the way their bodies feel pressed together as much as Emma currently is, as much as Emma shouldn't be.

 

Emma suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They’re awkwardly hovering in the air, and she’s afraid to move them because where she wants to put them and where she should put them aren’t the same place.

 

Why isn’t Regina moving from on top of her?

 

Why isn’t Regina saying anything?

 

Why the hell is Regina so damn beautiful?

 

Emma’s eyes forcefully shut. What is wrong with her? This is not the time for sudden realizations. When that realization is that she wants to kiss her son’s other mother, there’s _never_ a time for it.

 

Emma starts to panic, like breathing quickly, heart pounding, head spinning, can’t think straight kind of panic. She doesn’t know anything in that moment anymore other than the fact that she needs to get up and find fresh air, air that doesn’t smell like Regina, air that doesn't want to suffocate her. (She doesn’t even know if air can actually do that!)

 

“I need to go,” Emma says urgently, not needing to push Regina aside because the other woman’s moving off her just as quickly as she’s trying to get up and out of the room.

 

Emma doesn’t take a moment to look at Regina, or their son still fast asleep on the bed. She grabs her shoes and rushes down the stairs, her tunnel vision blocking out everything but the door and then the steps outside of the apartment. She sits down on those to put on her boots, her chest feeling heavy like something is sitting atop of it.

 

She hasn’t gone into complete panic mode like this in a long time, and for once she can’t say for certain what’s caused it. It’s not like Regina’s the first woman she’s thought about kissing before. She’s been proudly calling herself bisexual for nearly eight years, has actually known she wasbisexual for longer. It’s not even the first time she’s entertained the idea of kissing Regina, honestly. But something about that moment, about having Regina looking at her like she had been, made it hard for Emma to breathe.

 

And she still can’t breathe properly. It’s like her lungs no longer know how to do something they’ve been doing all her life.

 

Emma pulls herself up from the top step with one hand on the wall and the other on the banister. She rushes down from the third floor, her grip tight on the banister as she nearly trips down the stairs in her hurry to get outside to the fresh air. She has no plans about where she’s going past that; she only knows she needs to get outside before her lungs expand and burst inside of her.

 

_Breathe in._

 

_Breathe out._

 

_Breathe in._

 

_Breathe out._

 

She tries to coach herself in her head as she pushes the door open and the rush of night air blows across her skin. She’d always expected it would be warmer down here. There are actual flames down in Hell Proper, but the Underworld, the middle ground between Hell and wherever people go when they no longer have unfinished business and move on, is cold during the day and colder at night, not much different from the weather they had left behind in Storybrooke, Maine.

 

The first few mouthfuls of air don’t make a change for Emma. She still feels like something inside of her is broken, like nothing is right.

 

After the tenth or twelfth deep breath, Emma starts to feel lighter. Her head doesn’t feel like she’s on a broken merry-go-round that won’t stop spinning. She feels as though she’s finally getting some semblance of control – it’s trying to slip between her fingers, but it’s there. It’s been a long time since she’s experienced the sensation, but she recognizes it as the first step before she starts to calm down.

 

It takes a few minutes for the cold to register, for her to realize she’s freezing and her arms are bare.

 

And that’s when she notices the door carefully opening and Regina standing in the doorway, looking at Emma with a blank expression as she steps outside. Emma spots her jacket in Regina’s hand and reaches for it, glancing up into Regina’s empty eyes as she quickly moves to put it on.

 

“Thank you,” Emma says, sliding her arms into the sleeves and pulling it tight around her cold body. She pulls the hat stuffed into her pocket out and wears it as well.

 

Regina nods. She looks over Emma and then out around them. There’s nobody around, and Emma suddenly wonders if the dead sleep or if there’s just some type of curfew put into place to keep the streets clear at night.

 

“Do you mind?” Regina questions, gesturing to the space beside Emma.

 

Emma shakes her head and takes a step to the right. “It’s cold out here.”

 

“That would be why _I_ put my coat on before leaving the apartment.” She looks like she regrets saying that for some reason, but she doesn’t take it back or apologize. She does choose to stay quiet after leaning against the railing beside Emma.

 

Emma looks at her out of the corner of her eye, but Regina isn’t giving away anything that can help Emma figure out what’s going on through her head. Emma can’t tell if she’s upset or confused, or if she even knows that she’s the reason Emma needed to get away. Emma likes to think she’s pretty good at reading Regina, but it becomes rather obvious in that moment that the only reason that she’s good at reading Regina is because Regina lets her be. Regina’s keeping her out right now, so Emma’s not getting anything from her.

 

However, one thing Emma does know is that Regina is there, standing beside her in the cold when she doesn’t need to be.

 

Emma closes her eyes and exhales.

 

“I couldn’t breathe,” Emma shares without looking at Regina. “It was like I ran out of air and couldn’t remember how to breathe. It’s a terrifying feeling.”

 

Regina doesn’t say anything in response, and it makes Emma feel vulnerable and a little stupid for telling Regina until she opens her eyes and sees the concern being directed at her. Regina takes a step closer, and then their arms touch from shoulder to elbow. Regina looks down to the ground for a moment, and then she clears her throat and straightens up her back, holding one of her hands in the other.

 

“I used to have severe anxiety attacks as a young girl. At the time, I did not know what they were called. I didn’t learn until recently what it was that I was experiencing.”

 

Emma’s surprised by Regina’s soft voice, that she’s chosen to share that little bit of knowledge with her. “And now?” Emma asks as she scuffs the heel of her boot on the concrete.

 

“Not since I was in my late teens,” Regina tells her with a firm shake of her head. “I didn’t have anyone to help me understand what was wrong with me at the time. Mother...” She clears her throat and pinches the webbing between her thumb and forefinger.

 

Emma waits for her to continue, but soon she realizes that Regina won’t. Emma doesn’t like heavy conversations, and from the sudden silence, Emma’s willing to bet that what Regina had started to say was not going to be the kind of talk one had over tea Sunday morning. Regina also doesn’t appear to want to finish what she’s started, so Emma picks up the conversation so she doesn’t feel obligated to do so.

 

“There was a family I really liked that I thought I was going to be able to stick with. They treated me like I was one of theirs even though they had two daughters of their own. It’s the first home I can actually remember being happy in. There were probably others, but that’s the first one that I can remember feeling like I was part of a family, you know?

 

“I never found out why they sent me away. I guess I just wasn’t good enough, or maybe they got tired of me. They already had two children, so they didn’t need to keep a third that wasn’t even theirs.” Emma pauses when she feels a hand squeeze her arm, surprised by the contact but not pulling away from the unexpected touch. Regina’s been more comfortable with physical contact lately, and Emma’s not going to be the one to make it stop. “Whenever I felt like I was getting comfortable in a house and things started to feel nice like that, I would always remind myself that that family had sent me away. My attacks were triggered by fears of being sent away then, of not being enough for someone to want me. I learned to deal with them by leaving on my own terms when I got older.”

 

“I had a fear of disappointing Mother,” Regina says tightly, and it’s all she says. But Emma has learned enough about Cora to know why Regina grew up afraid of disappointing her mother, and after seeing what she did to Daniel and how it affected Regina, Emma needs no further explanations.

 

They stay outside in the cold for a while, talking very little until Regina gets Emma to go back inside.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“Whatever for, dear?” Regina asks as Emma slides into the bed next to her.

 

Emma glances down to the floor. “You know, for pulling you off the bed and everything.”

 

Regina hums in her throat thoughtfully. “You did say you would take me down with you if I pushed you off. I wasn’t completely taken by surprise.”

 

Emma gives Regina a crooked smile. “Yeah, but I had only been joking.”

 

“And yet we both ended up down there.”

 

“It was your fault. You _pushed_ me off the bed.”

 

“Next time you’re frightened when you wake up with someone holding you, don’t wake them up in the process of trying to escape,” Regina whispers with a smirk playing across her lips that makes Emma’s cheeks burn hot.

 

“What?” Emma splutters. “You... You...”

 

“You’re not as gentle as you would like to think you are. You woke me up before you had managed to extract yourself from my embrace. However, I will admit that I did not mean to push you off the bed. I only meant to push you over.”

 

“Sure you did.” Emma crosses her arms over her chest, pouting.

 

“I promise you. Your fall was merely a happy accident,” she jokes.

 

“I can’t believe you were awake and didn’t even, I don’t know, say something.”

 

Regina shrugs her shoulder, lying on her side with her back to Henry. “I’m not the one who was bothered by how we were sleeping.”

 

“I thought you would have wanted my head on a plate.”

 

“I believe you mean a platter, dear.”

 

Emma side-eyes Regina. “Same difference.” She exhales loudly. “I was seriously freaking out.”

 

Regina frowns, all the mirth leaving her eyes as she starts to slip back behind one of those masks Emma really hates. “If it bothered you that much, perhaps you should find somewhere else to sleep.”

 

Emma groans at the cold tone, but she doesn’t respond beyond that. She was starting to feel like herself again after their time talking out in the cold, and Emma really does like it better when Regina acts like Emma is someone who matters to her.

 

So, for a long while, there’s only silence between them, which isn’t _that_ bad. Emma’s okay with the silence, honestly. Regina’s at least being silent beside her instead of somewhere else. (She’s pretty sure that’s only because of Henry, but she can at least pretend Regina wants to be next to her as well.)

 

It’s silent until Regina starts to turn away and Emma stops her, putting a hand on Regina’s upper arm and turning her head to look at her. “I thought you would push me away if you found out that I was holding on to you in my sleep,” Emma admits with a heavy sigh. She’s not sure why she’s sharing so much with Regina tonight, but she can’t stop herself. “Turns out you were literally going to push me, anyway,” she adds with a forced chuckle.

 

Regina looks at her like she’s not certain about something, and then she just sighs, one of those sighs of exhaustion that make it seem like Regina’s ready to just call it quits. (Regina _never_ calls it quits.)

 

“Emma, you were holding on to me long before you fell asleep. If I had found a problem with it, I would have said something to you.”

 

Emma reaches up to her face and scrubs her hands across it. She vaguely remembers Regina’s fingers in her hair and her head on Regina’s lap, but she can’t remember enough of it to know if that had actually happened or it had been a dream. If it had only been a dream, it had been a dream that filled her with a crazy amount of warmth and a sense of safety.

 

“I’m not used to _that_ ,” she says, refusing to look at Regina.

 

Regina clicks her tongue. “You’ll have to be a little more specific about what you mean.”

 

“Must I?” Emma groans.

 

“If you wish to receive a response, then, yes, my dear, you must.”

 

Emma’s eyes flick over to Regina, and her heart flutters excitedly. She wishes that was the first time it had done that because of Regina, but it’s not. Regina adds the ‘my’ in front of dear and it becomes a true term of endearment. Regina calls many people dear, but she’s never heard her call anyone else ‘my dear’. It’s special to her, and Emma can’t deny to herself that she loves it. She loves the idea of being worthy of Regina giving her something that’s just her own, even if it’s something as simple as a term of endearment.

 

Emma licks her lips and turns her head back up to the ceiling, listening to the sound of Henry sleeping. She’s glad he’s a noisy sleeper because she doesn’t want him to hear what she’s about to say to Regina. That little reassurance that he’s asleep makes it easier to talk to her.

 

“You were holding me.” She worries her lip with her teeth. “And I think before that you let me lay my head in your lap.”

 

“I did,” Regina says carefully, like perhaps she’s worried about where the conversation is going.

 

Emma nods. “I liked it. I think I liked waking up with your arms wrapped around me, too, before I started freaking myself out about it, you know. I felt...” She huffs, almost regretting her decision to tell Regina what she has started telling her. “Safe,” she forces out past clenched teeth. “I felt safe sleeping with you, even before I was asleep and you were just playing with my hair.”

 

“And that–” Regina clears her throat, but it’s still a little rough around the edges when she speaks. “What about that are you unaccustomed to?”

 

“Honestly?” Emma asks with a small chuckle. “I’m not used to any of that. I don’t do sleepovers, and nobody’s run their fingers through my hair like that since I was probably six or seven years old.”

 

“When Henry had nightmares when he was younger, that helped him fall asleep.”

 

Emma smiles a little. “Lucky kid,” she mumbles. She thinks she knows that already, kinda remembers a memory that was never really hers of stroking a toddler's head as he fell asleep with his tiny arm around her waist.

 

“I’m afraid I most likely have even less experience than you do when it comes to sleeping comfortably in a bed with another adult.” Regina shifts, and Emma watches her turn to check on their snoring teenager. She brushes her fingers through his hair, and the gesture is full of that unconditional love that makes Emma’s heart feel full. Her son is so wonderfully loved, and that’s all that she had ever hoped for. “So when I say that I was comfortable with how we were sleeping,” Regina says as she turns back to look at Emma, her eyes incredibly open and honest, “I hope you understand that I am being truthful with you.”

 

Emma nods her head and rolls over on her side, tentative smile in place. “I wanna ask you something. Do you mind?”

 

Regina raises an eyebrow, amused. “Since when do you seek permission to speak?” Emma rolls her eyes and bites the corner of her lip. Regina quickly glances down and then back up to Emma’s eyes. “Go ahead,” she allows after a heartbeat.

 

“If I hadn’t woken you up earlier, in the morning–” Emma watches the amusement in Regina’s eyes fall away. For a quick second, she looks nervous, which makes Emma stop talking and hold her breath. But then Regina gestures for her to continue and she starts over again. “If we had woken up in the morning like that, would it have been all right with you?”

 

“Yes,” Regina tells her simply, not even taking a moment to think about her answer.

 

The lack of hesitation makes Emma’s heart race a little. “Yeah?” she whispers, doing a poor job of hiding her wonderment.

 

Regina’s smile is absolutely breathtaking when it stretches across her lips. “Yes,” she repeats, her voice light.

 

“What about now?” Emma licks her lips and then pulls the bottom one between her teeth while sliding her hand up Regina’s arm. Regina’s eyes fall shut instantly, and Emma feels like she can hear every loud beat of Regina’s heart. She scoots closer and lowers her voice when she leans over to talk directly into Regina’s ear. “If I told you that I want to hold you, to be held by you, would that be okay?”

 

She can feel Regina’s heart beating along with her own. She’s not sure whose is beating faster, but the air is suddenly too hot and too thick for proper breathing. Regina’s arm slides around her middle and the soft curves she had woken up to earlier are pressed against her front again. Regina’s hand slips underneath the back of her tank top and glides a few inches up her back like it belongs there. Emma’s entire body feels as though it’s being wrapped up in something warm and safe, and she thinks, she is, she _is_ being wrapped up in something safe, wrapped up in Regina’s embrace.

 

“Does that answer your question, Emma?” Regina whispers in that way where her name slowly slips past Regina’s lips, like she’s purposely savoring each syllable.

 

Emma nods against Regina’s shoulder and slowly rests her head back down on the pillow they’re sharing. Her eyelids become heavy and she lets them fall shut, Regina’s dark eyes carefully watching her the last thing she sees.

 

“Sleep well, my dear,” Regina whispers into the night after a few silent minutes, tilting her head up to place a single kiss to Emma’s forehead before they both let sleep claim them once more before the sun rises.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma groans and buries her head in the warmth against the side of her face. “Go away,” she mumbles.

 

The poking against her shoulder blade stops, but then she registers the sound of her son's voice. She’s not fully awake yet, so nothing he’s saying is making sense to her. She loves the kid, but she really wishes he would stop talking so she can slip back into the peaceful sleep she was enjoying a moment before his hard pokes with his cold fingertip pulled her away from her dream. She sinks deeper into the inviting warmth in front of her, her nose pressed against something soft and smooth. She hums pleasantly and starts to drift off again.

 

But of course Henry doesn’t give up. He clearly wants her awake, and he’s her kid, and Regina’s, so he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. She groans again, knowing it’s time to give up on trying to get a few more minutes of sleep before their long day starts. Hopefully, it’ll be their last before they go home, she thinks, giving herself motivation to wake herself up completely and get up out of the bed.

 

Her eyes blink open slowly, her vision a little blurry. The moment it clears, she nearly jumps out of the bed. There are eyes zeroed in on her, but they are not the impatient ones belonging to a son who couldn’t get his mother to wake up like she was expecting.

 

“What the hell, Killian?” she hisses, trying to move her hand to her chest where her heart is pounding. But her hand is stuck – her whole arm is. Her brow furrows and she turns her head, confused for a moment when she sees exactly what her arm is stuck under – well, _who_ it’s stuck beneath. She doesn’t quite remember spooning Regina in the middle of the night, but there she is, the curve of her ass nestled in the cradle of Emma’s hips. But she doesn’t have time to focus on that, not when Hook is standing beside the bed, looking down at her with a mixture of emotions on his face, none she’s too fond of, and appearing to be waiting for an answer to a question she doesn’t remember him even asking her.

 

And then she thinks about how much Regina would probably hate him being anywhere near her when she sleeps. She’s very particular about who she lets around her when her guard is down, and Emma has this gut feeling that tells her she wouldn’t want him there. And Emma doesn’t want him there either. It’s like he’s ruining something that had been nice and peaceful just by entering the room, and she has a strong desire to forcefully remove him from the loft. (She’s tired, she thinks, because these aren’t the thoughts she usually has about him. She doesn’t normally want to hurt him, does she? Her brain's too cloudy for her to figure it out.)

 

“What are you doing up here?” Emma hisses out in a quiet voice.

 

“Me? The lad said you were up here sleeping and couldn’t get you to wake up. I think the better question here is what it is you’re doing up here, Swan, and with the Evil Queen of all people.” His voice rises in volume as he speaks, and Emma can feel Regina starting to stir.

 

Emma’s morning is starting off terribly; she can already feel a headache approaching.

 

She doesn’t want to deal with him. She doesn’t want to even have to look at him. She wants to sleep, and she wants to bury herself back in the warmth that is still against her body.

 

“Go wait for me downstairs. We’re not talking up here,” she tells him instead of what she wants to say, instead of making him leave so she can forget he exists for a little while longer and she can finally catch up on all the sleep she hasn’t been able to get lately.

 

He turns his cold stare towards the unknowing brunette beside her, and Emma feels the need to protect her from him for some strange reason she doesn’t understand. (Is it only crazy that she wants to do that because she knows Regina’s more than capable of protecting herself?)

 

“Go,” she tells him again, annoyance coating the single syllable.

 

“And, what, leave you in bed with someone else?” he spits out incredulously.

 

Emma’s nose wrinkles. “Don’t make it sound like that. We were just sleeping.”

 

“Ah, yes, _sleeping_. And I’m just supposed to believe–”

 

“Yes, you’re supposed to believe it,” Emma interrupts him, feeling her anger rise. It’s too soon after him not believing her the day before about his brother, too soon after trying to convince herself that he really did trust her. “We were sharing the bed with our son, and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re both completely dressed.”

 

His eyes, still hard and cold, travel over both of their bodies. The lascivious glint that appears as he looks at Regina makes Emma want to punch him in the gut. She’s used to the way he looks at women, but it feels disgusting and sickening when he’s looking at the sleeping woman beside her like he’s undressing her with his eyes. Emma’s not even the one doing anything wrong and she feels like she’s somehow violating Regina’s trust just by him being there.

 

Emma pulls her arm from under Regina, ignoring her displeased grunting. “Downstairs, now.” She stands up in front of him to block the view of Regina. She has to physically turn him around and push him towards the stairs to get him to move.

 

She snatches her shirt on the way down and throws it over her tank top, the loss of Regina’s body heat causing goosebumps to decorate her skin. The chill goes all the way down to her bones, but her annoyance with Hook is running hot in her blood. The chatter in the kitchen comes to a complete stop when they appear, her parents, Henry, and Robin all looking at the two of them as Hook takes heavy steps down the stairs and Emma pads down on sock-covered feet.

 

“Morning, honey,” Snow says with a raised eyebrow and a too-sweet smile. There’s a question in her eyes, but Emma doesn’t answer it.

 

“Can you make sure Regina knows I stepped out for a minute if she comes down here before I come back in?” she asks nobody in particular, looking at the group as a whole.

 

“Of course,” Snow says as Henry answers, “Sure thing, Ma.”

 

Emma gives them a tight smile and then turns to Hook. Her boots are by the door and her jacket is at the table. She grabs those things and then inclines her head and signals for Hook to follow her outside of the apartment. He does so without saying a word, even though she can tell he’s just burning to say something. He can wait, though.

 

Sitting down to put her boots on reminds Emma of the night before. She remembers Regina bringing her jacket and talking to her. She hadn’t asked if Emma was okay, because it was obvious that she wasn’t; instead, Regina had helped her feel better by being genuine and opening up a little and letting Emma do the same when she wanted to. She remembers the way Regina hadn’t made her feel like there was anything wrong with her for enjoying the affection Regina had shown her, hadn’t used against her something that made Emma feel vulnerable. As she stands up from the stairs and pulls on her jacket, she remembers how little had actually been said between them but how much Regina had understood when Emma asked to hold Regina.

 

She swallows as a wave of emotions sweeps through her, making her feel unbalanced.

 

“Outside,” she says to Killian, not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation.

 

The outside door’s barely shut before Hook is questioning her.

 

“Are you planning on explaining to me what that was I saw when I came looking for you? Or must I ask you myself?”

 

Emma folds her arms across her chest and starts walking, only glancing over her shoulder to make sure he’s following her. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already told you what that was. Regina and Henry were sharing the bed upstairs when I got here last night. I needed somewhere to sleep, so she let me sleep with them. What’s the big deal?”

 

“What’s the big deal?” he repeats, his voice rising the way it does when he gets angry. “Please tell me you aren’t serious, love. I find you in bed with another, and–”

 

“For the love of God, Hook. I understand how it might have looked to you, but I would really appreciate it if you stopped making it sound like you walked in on me screwing Regina or something.” Emma stops walking and spins around to face him, keeping her face hard even though she’s starting to feel exposed and she doesn’t like it. “Do you want to know what happened between us last night? We slept together. Okay? That's it. It wasn’t anything sexual or whatever you’re thinking it was. After you left the house last night, I felt alone and came here to be with my family.

 

“She let me sleep in the bed with them so I didn’t have to sleep on the floor. That’s what happened. I initiated the contact because it felt good to be near someone and not feel like they were going to push me away when all I wanted was someone to hold onto me for a little while. Regina made me feel safe, okay? I’m not going to apologize for that. So if that’s what you’re expecting, I’m not going to do it.”

 

He scoffs. “Her? The Evil Queen. She made you feel safe? That’s rich, Swan.”

 

Emma frowns, taking a step away from him. She wants to snatch back the words she had said and keep them away from him. Why does she keep doing this? She can’t trust him with things that make her feel vulnerable. He uses them against her when he gets angry, when he’s upset, when something doesn’t go the way he wants. She’s just giving him more ammunition to hurt her when all she’s been trying to do lately is make him happy.

 

She feels stupid for believing she could do that, for trying so hard when it’s always a back and forth thing with them lately. She’s tried to be the happy ending he told her she was for him, but she failed at that. She’s tried to correct her wrongdoings, but nothing’s proven good enough for him. She’s there to save him!

 

She’s still upset about him leaving her last night, still not even sure why he left. He’d kissed her in the mansion, talked about sharing a future with her as they walked back to the apartment together, and held her hand occasionally during dinner with her family at the diner afterward. But when they were alone again at the house, he’d changed. She hadn’t been able to figure out why they were once again suddenly talking about how his chance to die a hero had been taken away after she thought they were moving past that, and then he had just gotten up and left her without saying anything. She had waited two hours for him to return, waited for him to explain what was wrong and why he had left. But he hadn’t returned to her.

 

She can’t keep trying if that’s how it’s going to be all the time. It reminds her of all the times she had tried to be the perfect child but still got sent away in the end all the time, which makes her remember why it was always better to cut her losses before she got too hurt. She hadn’t done that with Hook, and now she doesn’t feel much like herself when she looks at how she is with him. 

 

She’s starting to realize that, perhaps, maybe, it’s time for to stop trying and let them both find happiness somewhere else. He had once told her his happiness was with her, but she no longer believes that to be true.

 

“Look, I didn’t bring you out here to talk about Regina. I want to talk about us. Where’d you go last night?”

 

“Here, there,” he answers while waving his hook from side to side. “I needed time to myself.”

 

“Well, you could have just told me that,” Emma says, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I wouldn’t have minded if you needed some alone time. I just thought you and I were in the middle of something important, and then you got up and walked out like I didn’t even matter enough for you to give me an explanation.”

 

“Sorry, love. A lot’s happened between us–”

 

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Emma reminds him, trying to remain patient but having a hard time keeping her emotions at bay. She just wants clear explanations and no nonsense from him. She wants to know where she stands with him. “But then after Liam...” She shrugs her shoulders. “I thought we were good.”

 

“Aye, as had I.”

 

“And...? What changed in the few hours between you saying you were glad I came down here to you slamming doors and disappearing on me? You said that you deserved saving and you were coming home. We were on the same page one minute, and then...” She shrugs her shoulders again. “What?”

 

“You want to know what happened? I looked around the table at the lot of you, your parents, your boy, Robin, and even that woman you’ve all started looking at as one of the heroes. And do you know what I realized, eh? I’ll never be one of you.”

 

“Killian,” Emma sighs, reaching out for his arm.

 

He pulls away from her, shaking his head and averting his eyes. “I don’t need your pity, Swan.”

 

“Well, good, because that’s not what I was trying to give you.” Emma steps closer to him, moves so she’s in his line of vision. “It’s called understanding. Don’t you think I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit in, like you can’t measure up? Before I got to know my parents and learned they messed up and made bad choices and weren’t the perfect heroes Henry’s book portrayed them as, do you know how hard it was for me to think of myself as one of them? I was a thief when I was younger. Yeah, it was mostly about survival for me, but that doesn’t change that it was wrong. I’ve done things in life I’m not proud of. I didn’t feel like a hero, and I damn sure didn’t think I could be the savior everyone kept telling me I was.

 

“So, I get it. And do you want to know something? I still don’t feel like I belong sometimes. That feeling of not belonging might never go away for me, but I’ve learned to listen to what people say instead of what the voices in my head say. Because you know what? Those people, they’re my family, and they love me, and that’s all there is to it. They’re your friends, and they came down here to help bring you back when they didn’t have to.”

 

“They’re here for you.”

 

Emma doesn’t disagree, because she knows it’s true even if it’s not the whole truth. “Then forget about them. I’m here for you, and I didn’t come here because I thought a trip to the Underworld would be fun. I came to bring you back.”

 

Hook looks ready to protest again, so she steps back and throws her hands up.

 

“I’m done trying to make you want to come home with me, Hook. This isn’t who I want to be anymore. I don’t want to have to beg someone to want to be with me.” Emma pinches the bridge of her nose and tilts her head back. “Like I said before, you’re the only person who will convince you that you deserve being forgiven and being helped. Whether you think you do or not, I’m ready to get the hell out of here, and so is my family. You do what you gotta do to figure out what you want, but I’m gonna go help them figure out how to get us home.”

 

And with that she turns away and makes her way back to the apartment, her heart beating quickly in her chest with each of her wide steps. She doesn’t look back to see if he’s following her this time. She just walks and walks until she finds herself inside the apartment, sitting in the kitchen next to Henry while everyone around her talks but she hears nothing.

 

A cup of something steaming appears in front of her at some point – coffee and tea's just about the only things they have that they don’t have to go to the diner for – and she looks up to see Regina silently taking the seat beside her that Henry had vacated without her noticing, her own cup in front of her. Regina doesn’t meet her eyes, absorbed in the conversation she’s having with Snow and David, but the coffee she gives her smells delicious and it’s warm when she wraps her hands around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: cheek kisses that leave red lipstick stains.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little out of hand, so I ran out of time (or words, I should say) before I could get to what happens with Robin. So he's actually going to be taken care of next chapter. 
> 
> I'm predominantly a romance writer, so magical battles aren't really my thing and I don't know how to write them. So I apologize for the ending of the chapter in advance.
> 
> Anyway. Thank you all SO much for your support. It's been overwhelming (in a good way) seeing the response to the first chapter. You're all so awesome. I hope you continue enjoying the story...

**cheek kisses that leave red lipstick stains**

 

Henry exhales an exaggerated puff of air as he plops down across from her in the armchair. Emma looks up with a raised brow, the corner of her mouth twitching as a smile tries to appear. “Look who’s decided to grace us with his presence. Get tired of the solitude already? Turning in your lone wolf card after less than 48 hours?”

 

Henry gives her an unamused look. “Where is everybody?” he questions, tilting his head back and looking around the mostly-empty loft. His nose wrinkles at the bridge when a look of distaste briefly crosses his face, and Emma follows his line of vision to where Hook is over at in the kitchen. He looks an awful lot like Regina when he does that – both the nose wrinkling thing and the looking at Hook like he’s no better than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “I thought I heard Mom come back.”

 

Emma’s a little distracted by the way her son is looking at her sorta boyfriend, so she doesn’t register his question right away. He nudges her with his foot and she turns to him. “Uh. What was that?”

 

He rolls his eyes in response to her moment of inattention and repeats himself. “I thought I heard Mom come back.”

 

“Oh.” Emma sits up, closing the book on her lap and nodding her head. “She did. It was just for a minute, though. She was checking to see if any of us had seen Zelena. Apparently they, uh, lost her after finding Belle and the baby. I think.”

 

Earlier in the day, after Hook had shown up in the apartment and Emma’s parents left, Zelena had appeared. Emma’s not completely sure what’s going on with that, has been pretty much out of the loop for the last couple of hours. But what she does know is that Zelena and Belle fell through a portal with Zelena’s daughter, that apparently was created by Rumple to kidnap the child for Hades. Belle ran away with the baby to protect her from Zelena, who then came to Regina for help finding her daughter. Regina had shown up not too long ago with Robin and Belle, who no longer had the baby, and filled Emma in on the minor details. Simply put, Zelena had her daughter and they were worried about the child’s safety. (Emma had seen something in Regina’s eyes that suggested she might have also worried about the safety of her sister, but she hadn’t been sure and Regina was out of the door too quickly for her to find anything else out.)

 

“David’s still trying to gather as much intel as he can while pretending to be his brother, and _I think_ Snow’s giving James a piece of her mind and trying to keep him off the streets so nobody gets suspicious about David. They needed something to get their minds off of the baby and the call they made so he could hear their voices. I figured that would both help us figure out how we’re getting out of here and give them something to do before they drove themselves down Crazy Lane and brought me with them.”

 

He chuckles a little and she smiles at him, stretching her legs out.

 

“So what’s the deal with...?” He nods his head towards Hook as he leans forward to whisper his question.

 

Emma, not sure what he means since she and Hook have kept their distance from each other since getting in a second argument earlier and deciding it was best if they had a little space, knits her eyebrows together while leaning forward as well. Her arms balance on her thighs as she asks, “What do you mean?”

 

He gives her the ‘you know what I’m talking about face’, and Emma narrows her eyes and pushes herself up to her feet. One Mills giving her faces all the time is enough; she doesn’t need Henry to do it too when his mother makes sure to tell her exactly what she’s thinking with as little as a raised eyebrow.

 

“Grab your coat. Let’s go for a walk.”

 

“Yeah?" he asks eagerly, reminding Emma of the younger version of himself that jumped at every chance he got to spend time with her.

 

She flicks her eyes over to him. The rounded curves of his face have hardened out; there are sharper edges now, harder lines, a teenager looking back at her instead of the little kid who had bounced into her life and changed the status quo. But he is even more her son now than he was then. Before the only thing she had done that gave her any right to the title mom was give birth to him, and she had given up that right when she gave him up for his best chance. Now she has started earning the title he has given her, has been protecting him and loving him and caring for him like a parent should. Now she is a mom, not so much as Regina is, but Emma thinks they balance each other nicely and she doesn’t need to be the same kind of mom Regina is for both Henry and Regina to look at her as his second mother.

 

Emma ruffles his dark hair and gives him a single nod. “Yeah. You’ve been cooped up inside all day. You must be dying to get outta here.”

 

“Cool. Let me just leave a note and then we can go.”

 

Emma twists around, watching him race towards the stairs. “A note?” she asks, confused.

 

He’s only upstairs for a brief moment, and then he’s rushing back down with a piece of paper and a pen. “Yeah, in case someone comes back while we’re gone and gets worried,” he tells her in that tone that basically says _duh_ and makes her chuckle in her throat.

 

“Right, of course.” She flicks her eyes over to Hook; he’s still brooding or something like that, so she just shrugs her shoulders and decides to let him. Once Henry’s finished and is wearing his jacket and scarf, Emma puts her hand on his shoulder and gently nudges him towards the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

 

They walk in silence for a little while, mutually deciding to walk away from the busier part of town. They pass very few people, and those they do are all strangers. Henry’s looking around them as though trying to soak in every new detail he can. He has a mind that is hungry for information, even when they’re just walking down the quiet street. Soon enough, though, he turns his inquisitive eyes on her and levels her with a look that suggests he knows something that she’s keeping hidden. (She’s not sure _what_ he thinks she’s hiding from him, because they’ve really made no progress in their search to get home and she’s got nothing else going on that matters that much.)

 

“You didn’t answer my question about Hook. I thought that was why you wanted to leave the apartment.”

 

_Oh._

 

Emma frowns slightly, looking down and watching the steps she takes. “He’s just in a crappy mood, that’s all. A little self-loathing, a lot of being a pain in the neck.”

 

“So you two aren’t fighting, then? Because it sounded to me like you were.”

 

Emma turns her head to the side and apologizes to him. “I didn’t mean for you to have to hear that. We sorta went from 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds. Things are complicated right now.”

 

He nods his head twice, processing her words. “Complicated how?”

 

“Complicated in an adult way,” she tries, knowing before the words are even out that her son isn’t going to accept that as an answer.

 

He’s already narrowing his eyes a little like he does when she tries to brush over topics with him. “Seriously? I’m not a kid, Emma.”

 

“Um, yes you are, _kid_.” He stops walking and crosses his arms over his chest, and Emma groans aloud a few seconds later when she realizes he’s stopped. She turns around to face him, arms crossing over her chest, too. “Henry,” she warns.

 

His nose wrinkles. “Why won’t you just talk to me about what’s going on?”

 

“Because it’s nothing important.”

 

He gives her a disbelieving look as he says, “Then why have you two been arguing all day? He’s been pissed off since this morning, and I know it has something to do with Mom.”

 

“With Regina?” Emma asks, her shoulders slumping with confusion. “What makes you think that?”

 

“One, I’m not blind,” he tells her with a roll of his eyes. (Teenage Henry is going to be a pain in her butt, Emma decides right then, even more like his adoptive mother than he was before.) “If he had glared any harder at her after he came back inside earlier, Mom might have actually had a hole in the back of her head.”

 

“Well–”

 

“He keeps calling her the Evil Queen, Emma. You know Mom hates that,” he continues on, “and Hook knows it, too. That’s not who she is anymore.”

 

“I know that.” Emma sighs and walks over to Henry, puts her arm around his too-high-up shoulder and pulls him against the side of her body as she begins walking again. “I’ll talk to him about it, okay? I don’t like when he does that either, and I’ve told him to stop. But he’s–”

 

“Unreasonably inept at being a decent human being.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow lifts, but he’s not looking at her.

 

“It’s not all about Mom, though, is it?”

 

Emma decides to just be honest with him and not try talking around the truth. Henry knows when that’s what she’s trying to do, and he’ll just call her out for it. “We’re trying to figure things out between us right now, and, like I said, it’s complicated.” She feels him getting ready to pull away from her, so she squeezes the top of his arm as they slowly walk side-by-side. “I’m not saying that to keep things from you. It really just is complicated. We came down here to bring him back, and now he’s–”

 

“Being ungrateful,” Henry murmurs.

 

“Is this about this morning? With the book?”

 

Henry had come downstairs before Zelena had shown up, had discovered a story in the process of being written about Snow and David that he had no recollection of writing. His plan after finding the ink and pen he had broken in Storybrooke was to use his gift as the Author to write the stories as they happened and use the power he had to help defeat Hades and get them home. The night before he hadn’t accomplished anything, but this morning he discovered that a story was in the works about Snow and David finding out over breakfast about being able to talk to Baby Neal. Hook had just gotten in after staying away from the apartment for about half an hour after Emma left him, and he had said some stuff about Henry’s efforts that made Emma’s blood boil even though she forced herself to keep her temper under control until later. (That was how their second argument had started.)

 

“Yeah,” Henry admits, “but it’s not just that. He doesn't even seem like he appreciates that we came to save him, Ma. How do you...?" he starts, but he quiets as he pulls away to look at her, stopping them on the sidewalk.

 

“What is it, Henry?” Emma asks.

 

He sighs and looks around them. They’re by a park, so Henry starts walking towards a bench and takes a seat. He looks down at his lap until she joins him.

 

“I understand why we’re here. We’re the good guys, and we’re just trying to make things right.” Even as he says this with confidence, he looks confused. “Right?”

 

Emma only nods. She’s not sure if he’s asking for her to confirm that they’re the good guys or if that’s the reason they’re down there. She’s not sure if she’s one of the good guys anymore. She doesn’t feel like it right now, honestly. She’s just focusing on being Emma.

 

“No offense, Emma, but Hook can be a narcissistic ignoramus sometimes and–”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Emma’s brings her leg up onto the park bench and bends it at the knee so she can lean forward and rest her elbow on the inside of her thigh. “A narcissistic ignoramus,” she repeats slowly. “You really are your mother’s child, aren’t you? Are you even related to me?”

 

Henry grins a little, but then he huffs like this is something he’s been wanting to say for a long time and he’s tired of keeping it in. “We’re on a rescue mission to save him, and he’s being a jerkface – better?”

 

Emma bites the corner of her lip, thinking. “I thought you liked Hook,” she says under her breath. Her chest is starting to feel uncomfortably tight.

 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, at one point. But, then, you know, he hurt my mom.” He scuffs his sneaker on the ground. “He hurt both of my moms.”

 

Emma opens her mouth to speak, but Henry keeps going.

 

“We almost _died_ because of him. Me, Mom, Grandma, and Gramps. Because, what? He wanted revenge. Because of something that happened _centuries_ ago. He was willing to let us all die, and other people, just so he could hurt one person for something that happened lifetimes ago.”

 

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Emma whispers, and then she clears her throat and blinks. She looks away from him, hopes the stinging in her eyes continues to only be that and she doesn’t start crying in front of her son. “I screwed up by bringing you all here. I shouldn’t have–”

 

“No,” he says forcefully, angrily. “Stop doing that.”

 

She turns to him, her eyes unfocused – but she can still see the redness in his cheeks, the fire in his eyes that’s all Regina. She doesn’t see herself in him as much, honestly, and sometimes she actually doesn’t mind because he has a lot of good in him because of his other mother.

 

“You’re not the one who needs to apologize. He is. Mom, we love you, all of us. We’re here because we love you and we’re going to be there for you when you need us. And I’m happy you’re letting us be. I’m proud of you for letting us help. But–” His brow furrows. “It’s one thing that he’s being completely ungrateful towards the people who have come to rescue him, it’s even worse when those people are the same people whose lives meant nothing to him a few days ago. He was willing to let us die to get his revenge,” he tells her again, the words slicing through her, “and instead of letting him stay here, we’re all here to give him another chance at life.”

 

Seeing Henry’s emotions so mixed up on his face – anger, hurt, confusion, acceptance – makes Emma’s heart ache in her tight chest. What he has just said is swirling around in her head. _He was willing to let us die_. What the hell is she doing? Suddenly her decision to come save him doesn’t make as much sense to her. _Nothing_ is making any sense to her.

 

“I want you to be happy, Ma.”

 

Emma’s head pops up. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts and hadn’t realized he was speaking to her again.

 

“Does he really make you happy? Because it doesn’t seem like he does anymore.”

 

And her arms are around him before she knows it, hugging him and refusing to answer the question. Because she can’t remember what it feels like to truly be happy with Killian anymore, not really. There’s been too much of him hurting her since the last time he truly made her happy, and she doesn’t want to think about that.

 

She hasn’t hugged Henry enough in her life – she’s not really much of a hugger, honestly, and for a while it felt odd hugging the boy who was her biological son but didn’t feel like hers – but she holds him tight in her arms, bending over her leg to get to him. And he lets her, holds her back with just as much strength. Her son. Her son is no longer a kid, even if he’s just in his early teens and has so much life still ahead of him. He feels solid and warm and comforting, and he hugs her like he understands more than Emma will ever put on the shoulders of her son, understands that she’s not used to hugging but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy the way it makes her feel like everything is going to be all right in the end.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s had enough emotional conversations in the last 24-hour period to cover her for the next couple of years, she thinks. But her head feels clearer than it had back in the apartment, and she has Henry’s frankness to thank for that. They’d walked around and talked about plans for when they got back home for a little while to lighten the mood, and then he suggested they start heading back because it was getting dark and he was hoping the others would be at the apartment with hopeful news about getting out of the Underworld.

 

They’re at the end of the block, making their way to the apartment, when Emma notices Belle, Regina, and Robin heading their way. She points them out to Henry, and then Henry jogs the rest of the way to where his mom is. Emma continues at a slow pace, watching the way Belle leaves the group first and then Robin and Regina exchange words. He glances her way, so Emma turns her attention to the ground to pretend like she hadn’t been watching him and Regina with curious eyes. She knows she hadn’t been quick enough, but it doesn’t matter.

 

“Why don’t you go ahead upstairs and I’ll follow behind you in a moment?”

 

Robin nods and leaves with the pink bundle that is his daughter in his arms. Emma waits until the door is closed and he’s inside to move completely over to where Regina and their son are standing. Regina’s straightening out Henry’s scarf and he’s letting her, even though he’s telling her it’s fine now. (Emma’s pretty sure there hadn’t been anything wrong with it in the first place.)

 

“There,” Regina says, smoothening out the wrinkles, “all better.”

 

Emma snorts at the face Henry pulls when he looks down at the scarf. “You know he’s just going to pull it off in a minute, right?”

 

“That does not mean he shouldn’t look presentable while he is still wearing it.” Regina turns to face Emma. “Where are the two of you coming from?”

 

Emma hooks a finger behind her back as Henry answers, “The park.”

 

Regina eyebrow lifts. Emma works her hands into her front pockets. “We went for a walk. The kid was having writer’s block.”

 

“Liar,” Henry mutters under his breath.

 

“Traitor,” she returns.

 

Regina gives Emma a stern look. “Miss Swan,” she warns.

 

Emma pulls a face that clearly says that she doesn’t like the use of ‘Miss Swan’ right now. “Fine. We needed to get out of the apartment to talk about Hook. It’s kinda rude to do that with the person in the next room. Better?” she asks, turning to her son and then his other mother. “And Henry _was_ having writer’s block. I’m pretty sure that’s the only explanation for the objects that were thrown over the banister upstairs.”

 

“Henry,” Regina admonishes, and Henry glares at Emma for ratting him out but gives Regina an apologetical look that makes her soften way too quickly.

 

“It was during a bout of frustration,” he admits, “and I apologized for the pillow that hit Hook in the head.”

 

Regina fails at hiding her smirk. (At least she didn’t laugh like Emma did when it happened.) “That’s not how we handle our frustration, Henry,” she says after a moment, and Henry tells her that he knows that and is sorry. Emma can see there’s a second half to that response, probably something that would take away from the point she’s trying to make, but Regina doesn’t say it even though her eyes twinkle like she’d like to hit Hook on the head with something, too.

 

Emma sighs at the thought. She’s reminded of her talk with Henry and wonders how she could have thought letting all these people help her clean up her problems when they’d just been betrayed by Hook was okay. (She’s not ready to think about why _s_ _he_ keeps trying to fix things that are probably always going to be broken.) Regina gives Emma a strange look at the sound she makes, but Emma looks away from her.

 

Regina clears her throat. “Henry, I’d like to talk to your mother alone. Would you be a dear and give us a minute to ourselves, please?”

 

Henry hesitates, eyeing them suspiciously. Emma offers him a slight smile, and then he looks to Regina. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be upstairs. Don’t be too long.”

 

Emma swallows slowly and waits for Henry to disappear before she gives Regina a questioning look. “What did I do?”

 

Regina looks taken aback, then just completely confused. “I’m sorry?”

 

“You want to talk to me alone. That sounds like code for ‘Emma fucked up again and now I’m gonna tell her all the ways how’.”

 

Regina presses her lips tightly together and takes a step away from Emma. “Or perhaps there is something I’d like to speak to you about that does not concern our son nor require his presence. Did you consider that?”

 

“No,” she admits. Emma realizes Regina’s guard is up. Emma’s had slowly been going up after her conversation with Henry. There had been too many painful truths coming to the forefront of her mind at once.

 

“Of course you didn’t.” Regina straightens her spine and turns away. “I no longer wish to speak to you in private. We can go inside now.”

 

Emma’s eyes narrow as she watches Regina walk away from her. “What did you want to talk about?” Emma asks, not moving from the spot she’s standing at in the middle of the sidewalk.

 

“Does it matter?” Regina doesn’t turn to face her, but she pauses in front of the door. “If you’re automatically going to assume that the only reason I might have for wanting to talk to you is that I wish to reprimand you or say something hurtful, Miss Swan, then does it truly matter why I wanted to speak to you?”

 

“Come on, Regina, don’t do that. Haven’t we passed that? Can’t you just call me Emma like you do when you’re not mad at me?”

 

“Have we? Honestly?” Regina asks, sounding hurt when she turns around to look at Emma.

 

“Yes,” Emma says softly, sighing. “We’ve been through too much together for you to use that distancing tactic on me.”

 

“I’d like to think so as well, but I’m not so sure at the moment.”

 

Emma rubs her hands across her face. “Fine,” she says, feeling frustrated. “If you want to put distance between us, go ahead. If it’s that easy, then it’s probably for the best.”

 

There’s a war in Regina’s eyes, conflicting emotions fighting each other. She looks ready to pull away from Emma completely, but she also looks like that’s the last thing she wants – and it’s so _very_ confusing for Emma, because she doesn’t know what to believe as the truth. She can’t tell which Regina will do, and part of Emma is telling herself not to give Regina the choice and to make it herself. Part of her is telling her to just walk away and forget that it hadn’t even been 24 hours ago that the woman in front of her was the very thing she had clung to with all her might, literally and figuratively, when she had needed someone to help erase the feeling Hook had caused when he left her alone.

 

Regina makes her choice before Emma decides if this is a moment to walk away from or stay, though.

 

“It wouldn’t be easy,” Regina says, and although her face has hardened and there’s clearly a wall being put up between them, her eyes hold on to Emma’s like she’s begging her to see what’s really in them. “Distancing myself from you has never been easy, and I doubt it ever will be.”

 

Emma doesn’t know what to say, Regina’s words feeling too heavy when they weigh down Emma’s heart with all the meaning and passion the other woman managed to lace into so little.

 

Regina waits a moment, perhaps to see if Emma will say anything, and then she turns around and goes inside.

 

Emma follows soon after, Regina’s words loud in her head.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma has isolated herself from everybody, and it’s noticeable. Snow and David have come back, and everyone is around the table and in the kitchen, going over details and sharing knowledge. Belle’s just told them about catching Rumple coming out of the elevator in the library and how she believes that’s where Hades is, and David’s filling them in on everything he’s found out. Henry’s trying to make sense of his book and the stories that are appearing without him realizing it, and Snow’s talking about how they need to bring the battle to Hades because they’re not getting anywhere being sitting ducks. Emma had tried being a part of it, but she’d needed space, and space she’s had for the last twenty minutes or so. Regina’s stayed far away from her, and so has Hook – only one of them looks concerned when they look her way, and it’s not the guy who’s supposed to be her boyfriend.

 

There’s too much going on in her head for her to think straight, and she feels like she might snap if she’s forced into a conversation.

 

 _He was willing to let us die_ , she hears in Henry’s voice. Her family, the people who have done so much for her, who keep standing by her side like nobody had ever done before them – Hook was going to let them all die just so he could get revenge.

 

 _Does he really make you happy?_ she hears her son ask, and she breaks on the inside as she shuts her eyes. He shouldn’t have to ask her that.

 

_He was willing to let us die._

 

_He was willing to let us die._

 

Emma’s fingers roughly dig into her scalp and her shoulders shake. She wants to scream, to punch something.

 

“Upstairs,” she hears, and then there’s a hand on her and she’s being pushed from the chair in the living room area.

 

“I’m fine,” she protests, the words harsh as she pulls away from Regina. (Of course it’s Regina.)

 

Regina holds her hand away from Emma, but she doesn’t move away. “Upstairs, or outside, your choice,” she says in a low voice that’s only meant for Emma to hear.

 

 _I’m fine_ , she wants to say again, but she realizes her shoulders are still shaking and her body is tense and she’s filling with anger and rage and, no, she is not fine. She lifts her head to look at Regina, worried about how much judgment she’ll find in the brunette’s eyes.

 

None, absolutely none. Regina looks worried and is trying not to show it. But Emma can see it all over her face, can feel it radiating off of her. So she follows Regina up to the second level, up to where there’s a little more privacy from the eyes she realizes have been focused on her. She follows Regina right to the bed and doesn’t say a word the entire time.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma doesn’t remember falling asleep, or even laying down, but it’s clear that she hadn’t been sleeping for that long when the sound of Henry’s voice wakes her up.

 

“- - probably be hungry.”

 

And then the fingers soothingly stroking at the nape of her neck register, the blunt fingernails against her skin moving in small lines. _Regina_.

 

“Don’t worry, Henry, your mother won’t be missing a meal if she has any say in the matter. You may go with Snow and Belle to pick up dinner. We’ll be downstairs when you return.”

 

“Okay.” He pauses. “And, uh, Mom?”

 

Regina hums in her throat, her voice wondrously soft as she replies, “Yes, my love?”

 

“Hook’s been trying to come up here, but Gramps and I–”

 

“I’m sure Charming can more than handle one uncouth pirate on his own,” she says, and the cadence of her voice hints at the smirk that’s probably on her lips.

 

“Is Ma going– Is she all right?” Henry asks, sounding younger than he has been sounding recently.

 

“She’ll be back to getting in the way and annoying everybody in no time,” Regina says, and she actually laughs, a low, melodious laugh, as her fingers gently move into Emma’s hair and send a tingle down her spine.

 

Henry chuckles, and then Emma hears him going down the stairs.

 

Regina hums again a little while after he’s left. Her fingers slide through Emma’s hair and then let the strands fall down against her back. Emma’s breaths are even and quiet in the room, and so are Regina’s. Emma doesn’t say anything, but she’s pretty sure Regina knows she’s awake. (Her nose had started itching, and she hadn’t been able to ignore it.) Regina doesn’t stop what’s she’s doing, though, doesn’t hide that she had been doing it in the first place. She just continues running her nails against Emma’s scalp and letting the silky strands of blonde hair slip between her fingertips.

 

She doesn’t know what she did to be worthy of this kind of affection from Regina, doesn’t know exactly when the shift in their relationship that allowed this sort of thing happened. It hadn’t happened overnight, she knows. You don’t go from despising somebody to comforting them without a lot having happened. And while Emma _knows_ that, yes, a lot has transpired between the two of them, she’s not sure when it was that Regina started looking at her as someone she could just lay in bed with. She doesn’t know when the woman who made her want to do irrational, stupid things became the person who kept her sane.

 

Emma starts to lift her head slowly. Regina’s hand stops moving, but she still says nothing. Emma turns her head so she’s facing Regina’s stomach, shifts slowly so that her nose is pressed against the soft fabric of Regina’s gray sweater. She’d be embarrassed to so boldly bury herself in someone else’s warmth like this, to wrap her arm around anyone else’s waist like she does with Regina when she gets comfortable again, but she isn’t with Regina. Her heart is racing, but it’s not because she’s embarrassed. She’s terrified. She’s terrified because she _isn’t_ embarrassed to let Regina see that she craves the comfort she’s giving her, that she _needs_ it. (When was the last time someone had touched her with the sole purpose of making her feel safe? She’s not even sure.)

 

“Please,” she whispers, her hand sliding up Regina’s back.

 

Regina’s body stiffens at the contact, and Emma freaks out for a quick second. But then Regina relaxes and begins a slow, soothing pattern with circles and slow up and down strokes against her scalp. Emma sighs and breathes out against Regina’s stomach, falls into something she’d only been introduced to the night before, something warm and protective and deliberately being given to her by a woman she’s realizing she trusts more than she’s ever trusted another living soul.

 

Her hand slides back down Regina’s back, down towards the hem of her shirt. The need to feel someone’s skin has always been sexual for her, but there’s nothing about this moment that’s about arousal for Emma. When her fingers start to move against Regina’s back, it’s not meant to turn her on or get her hot. She just wants to give Regina something in return. She doesn’t know if Regina feels safe with her like she does with Regina, but she knows enough about Regina to understand that Regina comforting her and showing this softer side to Emma, allowing Emma to touch her, means that Regina certainly does trust her.

 

Her fingers inch lower, start to pull at Regina’s top. She can feel the force of Regina’s breaths from the way her stomach pushes out against her face; her breaths are getting heavier. Emma pauses, stops completely. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment, doesn’t want Regina to stop because Emma made it weird or made her uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to take a wrong step and fuck up something else that feels good in her life.

 

“Emma?” Regina questions.

 

Emma hums, her nose pressing into Regina’s stomach as she turns her head just enough to look up. Regina’s eyes are searching hers. She’s not guarded nor pushing Emma out, but there is something very cautious about the way she looks at her. There’s something in her eyes that makes Emma’s breath catch and her heart race. Emma’s seen Regina afraid when Henry was in danger, but she’s never seen Regina look afraid because of her. But she does. There’s nothing not powerful and full of fire about this woman, but here she is looking at Emma like Emma has the power to break her, absolutely destroy her. The real scary part is that Regina smiles at her like _she’s_ the one giving Emma all the tools she would need to make her crumble but she trusts her enough not to use them.

 

Emma closes her eyes back and moves even closer, her heart racing with all the things that she doesn’t quite understand. One of Regina’s hands idly strokes through her hair, the other reaches behind her for the one Emma has on her back. Regina’s touch is light and hesitant at first, the tips of her fingers tracing the bones in Emma’s fingers. Then, when Emma doesn’t pull away, exhales softly, Regina brings Emma’s hand to the hem of the sweater where it had been before. And then she leaves it there.

 

Is that an invitation? Permission? Had she known what Emma wanted?

 

Emma slowly pushes the shirt upwards, holds her breath. Regina’s fingers don’t stop. Regina’s not stiffening beneath her. Regina hasn’t thrown her off her lap.

 

Emma carefully glides one finger, just one, across bare skin. Regina’s unbelievably warm and smooth, and it takes all the self-control in her to wait for a response before shoving her whole hand underneath Regina’s top.

 

There’s almost no response at all, but Emma’s paying close attention so she doesn’t make a wrong move. Regina makes a small noise in her throat and then readjusts so her back is pressing into Emma’s hand.

 

Emma smiles and pulls her lower lip between teeth and glides her fingertip over Regina’s spine, going as high as she can without moving her arm, nothing but impossibly soft skin under her moving finger.

 

Regina responds by sliding her finger down the middle of Emma’s neck, the same pressure, just as slow.

 

Emma sighs and draws circles with two fingers, spiraling them across Regina’s back. She doesn’t stop, because she wants Regina’s fingers back in her hair. She cracks one eye open and tilts her head up, not surprised to find Regina looking at her.

 

Regina’s eyes flash with amusement for the briefest of seconds, and then she follows Emma’s lead with a little smirk on her lips.

 

Emma breathes out quietly and closes her eye back.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Her parents apartment had made her feel claustrophobic when it was just them and Henry living in it. Taking up residence in the Underworld version of her parent’s apartment with nearly double the amount of people, Emma decides after they’ve finished dinner, is going to drive her insane. One bathroom, seven bodies? Emma may not have been in any AP math classes or anything like that, but even she knows that adds up to one big disaster.

 

Emma has a lot of questions about the Underworld, but as she sits with her leg bouncing up and down while waiting for the bathroom to empty, there is only one question that matters. Why the hell isn’t Regina’s house set up for her like Snow and David’s is? All that space. All the rooms. And more than one fucking bathroom. _Ugh_.

 

She groans miserably. Her lemonade had gone right through her, and now she’s regretting having it instead of her usual coke.

 

Henry looks up from the book on his lap, his pen paused mid-air. “You know there’s two more apartments in the building, right, both empty? Why don’t you just go downstairs to one of those. That’s what Mom has been doing.”

 

“What?” Emma asks, turning accusing eyes on the brunette across the room.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow.

 

“I’ve been sitting here with a ticking bomb for a bladder and you didn’t think to tell me about the _two_ other bathrooms in the building?”

 

Regina, who’s sitting at the table with an open spellbook, fails to hold back her amused smirk. “You’re perfectly aware of how many apartments are in the building, Emma. Why am I the one to blame when you didn’t take the time to think that there might be another available bathroom within walking distance? If anybody should be blamed, it should be one of your _Charming_ parents.”

 

“Hey,” David says, mildly offended.

 

“Clearly her inability to use her intelligence to figure out what is, I must say, an easy problem to solve is a family trait.”

 

Emma doesn’t have time to glare at Regina, but she gives her book a shove as she passes her on her way to the door. “And here I was actually starting to like you,” she throws over her shoulder, rushing out. “I know better next time.”

 

She hears Regina’s quick laugh and knows Regina didn’t take her words seriously.

 

Apartment number two is set up a little differently, only one floor, but the bathroom is in the same place and it’s empty.

 

When she finishes in the bathroom, Emma sighs, stretches, and feels ten times better than she had when it felt like her bladder was going to burst. However, the moment she steps out of the bathroom, Emma’s mood drops, at least, twenty levels. Hook is waiting for her, leaning against the wall beside the front door.

 

She sighs and closes the bathroom door. “I already told you that I don’t want to talk right now.”

 

“No. You told me you didn’t want to talk before dinner. Dinner’s over, and you seem more than capable of having a conversation with everyone else.”

 

“Yeah, because everybody else is looking for a way for us to get home.” Emma pushes him aside, opening the door, daring him with a cold stare to try to stop her from leaving the apartment. He moves out of her way, holding up his hand and hook defensively. “You want to talk about stuff that’s not even any of your business.”

 

“Not my business,” he splutters, accent thickening, following after her as she starts climbing the steps.

 

Emma rolls her eyes and huffs out a loud breath. How is he so easily able to ruin her peace? She’d been feeling good not too long ago, had been feeling so good she wanted to beg Regina to stay in bed with her and forget about dinner. (Anyone who knew Emma, knew that meant a helluva lot. Emma didn’t turn down food for just anything. The only reason she didn’t ask was because it didn’t sound like the thing one was allowed to ask a friend. Plus, she knew she had already taken up enough of Regina’s time and didn’t want to take advantage of what had been offered to her. They also needed to get back to figuring out a plan.)

 

“Look,” she says, turning around on the stairs to face him. He’s so close that he stumbles back and slips down two stairs before righting his footing. “I’m tired of whatever this is we’ve been doing the last couple of days. I think–” Emma takes a deep breath and then lowers herself down so she’s sitting on the stairs. “Let’s focus on finding a way to get out of here, and then you and I need to have a talk.

 

“I think I finally get the importance of what you’ve been saying. We’ve been through a lot lately, and I’m actually a little ashamed that it took a conversation with my teenaged son to get me to realize how bad things got. I know the darkness wasn’t all you – we went through that together, so I get it – but I also know that you made me feel like shit and didn’t even care. And it wasn’t just when you were a Dark One. I tried to get over the whole thing with Liam, but–”

 

“We’ve moved past that,” Hook interrupts.

 

Emma shakes her head. “You don’t get to decide when I move past something that affects me. Only I get to do that, and having the man who supposedly loves me not trust me isn’t something I can move past as easily as I thought.”

 

He gives her the slightest of nods, not exactly an agreement but not a dismissal of what she has said either.

 

Emma clears her throat and rubs the back of her neck. Since she's already talking, she keeps going. “There’s also–” Emma looks away from him. “You know what having a family means to me, how important they are to me, and yet–” _He was willing to let us die._ She straightens her back, Henry’s voice reminding her why she can’t be with Hook, why their relationship can’t work. “All it took was the chance to be able to get revenge on Gold and you were willing to do something that would take all of my family away from me. I know I played my part in turning you into that person you were, but the decisions you made were your own. You giving in was all you.

 

“Innocent people were going to die because of that,” she says with pain in her chest. “My family would have died.”

 

“And I saved them!” he argues, wildly swinging his hook as he gets angry.

 

“They wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for you,” Emma yells back, standing up, the truth of the situation hitting her like a ton of bricks as she looks down at him. She feels sick looking into his eyes, sick because she’d been so blind, so stupid. “You were going to give up the souls of my family, of people you’ve claimed to care about, just to get revenge. I might never know how much of the man I thought I knew was in there when you made that decision, but I do know that none of that would have happened if you hadn’t chosen to let it. Giving in to the darkness was your choice, both the first and second time.”

 

“My choice?” He sneers, face twisting as though he’s smelling something foul. “ _You_ wouldn’t let me go. _You_ chose to turn me into a Dark One. _You_ selfishly tried to hold on to me because you were afraid of being alone. I had no choice in any of that.”

 

Emma’s fingers twitch at her sides, and something hot and tingly bubbles in her veins. “I know,” she shouts. “I’ve accepted that I fucked up. But you need to do the same. I didn’t make you choose revenge. You chose that all on your own. You chose to continue with your plan after you had your memories again.”

 

“Well, what do you expect when you dangle fish in front of a hungry shark’s mouth?”

 

Emma folds her arms. “Well, when the shark is a human man who says he’s changed, I expect him to fight his instinct to do what he should know is wrong. The darkness tried to tempt me, too, but I fought it for a lot longer than five minutes because I knew the difference between right and wrong and didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

 

“Well, love, you and I are not the same.”

 

Emma nods. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“The Crocodile deserved the worst–”

 

“No,” Emma interrupts. “We’re done. I’m done. I don’t want to hear about any of this.”

 

“Swan,” he demands when she turns away from him.

 

“I’m done,” she repeats, teeth gritted, stopping and turning back to look in his eyes. “Done, Killian. I’m sorry that I couldn’t just let you go in Camelot. Yeah, that’s on me, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life trying to make every single problem I make right when there’s never any winning with you.

 

“I’m tired of making excuses for your actions. I’m tired of trying to move past you hurting me. I’m...” Emma shakes her head, breathing in through her nose. She’s not going to let the hurt show anymore, not with him. He doesn’t get to see her hurt. “There’s a room full of people who you screwed over that came to save your ass, and you have done nothing but treat them like they owe you something when it’s them who risked their lives to save yours. If even a little bit of the man I thought I loved is inside you, you need to stop being an ass and be fucking grateful and make sure they know you appreciate them being here. Because whether they need to hear it or not, or you think you deserve them coming here for you, it’s the right thing to do.”

 

And with that, Emma pushes him out of her way and goes down the stairs.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma jumps when a jacket is placed over her shoulders, but she easily relaxes when she notices it’s her own. She looks over her shoulder, expecting to see Regina. Instead, David is standing behind her with his half-smile and the ‘wanna talk about it?’ dad look that makes Emma’s chest warm. She thanks him for her jacket and slides her arms through it. She needs to stop leaving without it.

 

“Regina says that if you get yourself sick, she’s not going to be the one responsible for nursing you back to health,” he shares with a look that shows both his amusement and confusion.

 

Emma grins. “She sent you down with this,” she guesses as she fixes the jacket on her. “Last night she brought it out here to me because I stupidly came outside in the middle of the night with just a tank top on.”

 

“She wanted to come out here, but she thinks she might have figured out how to get us in through the elevator that Belle told us about. I told her I’d relay the message.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

David shuffles with his hands in his front pockets.

 

Emma watches him for a moment before bumping her shoulder into his. “Wanna walk with me to the diner?”

 

He agrees right away, just like she knew he would. Emma stands up from the outside step she’s sitting on and inclines her head, motioning for him to follow. Accepting David as her dad hadn’t been as difficult as she expected it to be. He was easy to talk to, gave her good advice, but he also usually knew when she really didn’t want to talk about what was wrong and didn’t push. If she wanted to talk about what was bothering her, it was her choice. And this, Emma decides as they walk down to the diner, she does not want to talk about.

 

Instead, Emma has cocoa and they talk about her baby brother. It’s actually nice.

 

It makes her even more eager to get them home.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“I can feel you inside me,” Emma says in wonderment, and Regina blushes, honest to God blushes.

 

Regina clears her throat and waves her hand in front of her, mirroring Emma’s own. There’s a globe of magical energy between them, and Emma’s never seen anything quite so beautiful before. Their magic is combining between their hands. They’re not just making magic together, they are creating magic that is visually intertwined and _theirs_ , no more Regina’s than it is Emma’s, and Emma can feel Regina like a drug in her bloodstream.

 

Her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, and she inhales deeply. Emma had been worried about her magic – it’s been iffy in the Underworld – so Regina had told her to just reach for it and trust her instincts. Her fingertips had glowed with an icy white-blue color, and when Regina had smirked and pride flashed in her eyes, Emma had shown off a little and started the sphere that they now hold together. Emma’s heart had raced watching Regina’s eyes light up, darken, and then burn with something dangerously alluring. Next thing she knew, Regina was telling Emma to trust her and Regina’s hands were cradling hers.

 

Emma had felt Regina magic inside her, coursing through her veins. It was like vines growing inside her, wrapping around everything, tangling inside her. Regina’s chest had risen quickly with every breath she took, and Emma had tried not to stare, tried not to find Regina impossibly sexy when in the zone. (Emma had failed miserably.)

 

Emma slowly opens her eyes. “Seriously, we could bottle this up and make a fortune.”

 

Regina gives her an unamused look that doesn’t last long. It gives way to the affectionate warmth that Emma seems to be bringing out of Regina more and more. “Please focus on what we’re doing right now. You can make business plans at a later time.”

 

“What we’re doing?” Emma bites her lip, looking from the magic that pulses and glows between them, iridescent, magnificent. “You mean making magic together,” she says with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.

 

“It’s nice to see you’re in a better mood,” Regina says under her breath as she shakes her head.

 

Emma shrugs. They’re shrinking their sphere, making it smaller between their hands. “I can’t stay upset all night. It’s not helping us get out of here. And you’re not the one who pissed me off. I’m not going to take it out on you.”

 

Regina flicks her eyes up to Emma’s. “I appreciate it,” she says.

 

Emma nods. She makes a mental note to apologize about earlier outside the apartment when they have more time.

 

“Are you ready for this? We have our way in. We found Zelena. We know his weakness.” Regina looks into Emma’s eyes, serious as she raises her brow. “Are you ready, Emma?”

 

Emma swallows. Regina had already walked her through their plan when she and David returned, and now that Emma is feeling confident in her magic again, she feels like she is ready to take on the world if she has Regina by her side. (Or maybe just take on a god – which, hey, is also a pretty damn big deal.)

 

“Let’s get our family home,” Emma says.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Convincing Zelena to help them hadn’t been as difficult as Emma had thought it would be. It was all Regina’s doing. Emma hadn’t even been in the room for the conversation, had given the room to the two sisters so Regina could ask Zelena to help. Zelena wanted her daughter to be safe, and that was what Regina was offering her. She was also offering her another chance, a chance at having a family if she wanted it. Emma had lingered outside the door, ready to push into the room if there was even a small reason to believe Zelena was causing any physical harm to Regina, but she hadn’t needed to go in. Regina had rolled her eyes when she exited the room and saw her there, told Emma she worried too much about her and that she forgot she could more than handle herself. Emma didn’t forget that, but she also didn’t forget Regina going through a clock tower. Emma didn’t care if Regina could defend herself – she was going to be there for her regardless.

 

Finding Hook had proven impossible. He didn’t want to be found, Emma had known. He hadn’t gone back into the apartment to thank the people who risked their lives for him, and he hadn’t told anybody where he was going. David and Robin looked for him while Regina, Zelena, and Emma worked on the magical part of getting to Hades. They hadn’t found him, and Snow had smiled sadly and said what Emma had known all along: Hook had made his decision, and his decision wasn’t to come back with them. Emma was angry when they came back with only Belle and Rumple – at herself, mostly – but she hid it beneath genuine sorrow she felt as well. The trip had been to save him, and although they hadn’t yet figured out what to do about him still being dead, they hadn’t given up on him. He gave up, and there was nothing to do but accept it.

 

Getting to Hades had been too easy once they were down underground. It had been like he was waiting for them. He _had_ been waiting for them. The thing about fighting a god was, you had to know their weakness. Because gods were immortal, and, well, they weren’t. Luckily for them, Hades weaknesses were light magic and Zelena – _interesting_ , Emma had thought when Regina shared Zelena’s past with him, and she promised herself to ask questions later when they weren’t fighting to get home.

 

“Learn your enemy's weakness, then use it to crush them,” Regina had said, fire burning in her eyes that reminded Emma of the woman Regina had been in the past. That woman was still inside her, but Emma didn’t think she had any claim on the woman Regina had become.

 

Emma had gotten a sour taste in her mouth when she thought about those words because they were similar to when Hook spoke about learning your enemies weaknesses and exploiting them. He had done that to her, her boyfriend, had learned her weaknesses and used them against her. Thinking about that made her angry, made it hard to believe she could trust herself because she hadn’t even realized how bad things were until after someone had pointed it out to her.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

There’s a beeping sound and the soft murmur of machinery – that’s the first thing Emma notices when the fuzziness in her head starts to clear.

 

She knows it before she opens her eyes, can smell the scent of it in the air. She’s in the hospital.

 

Wait.

 

She’s in the hospital.

 

Dead people don’t need hospitals.

 

Are they... _home?_

 

Her eyes slowly blink open, light pouring in from every direction. Well if she needed confirmation that she still had her sight, she sure does have it now. _Why the hell is it so bright?_

 

Her throat feels dry, scratchy, and a little sore, like something had been inside of it.

 

She continues to blink, her body feeling heavy and exhausted. She moves her feet on the bed to make sure she can feel the rough sheets on the heels of her feet. She can. She has always feared waking up in a hospital and no longer being able to walk. Having to depend on another person when there was never anyone there was scary business.

 

“Emma?” she hears.

 

“Mom,” she tries to say, but the word doesn’t make it out of her croaky throat. Her eyes feel like they’re burning, and then she realizes that she’s crying, can feel the warm tears sliding down to her ears. She’s mortified, but Snow’s gentle hand is just brushing her cheeks as she whispers words that Emma can’t hear as she starts to drift off.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The second time she wakes up, her head is a lot clearer and she can move it to the side. This is how she finds out that Regina’s sleeping in the armchair beside her bed, curled up in the same clothes she had been wearing in the Underworld. Emma’s confused, and that confusion doesn’t feel good in her head that is suddenly no longer clear.

 

She falls asleep again a moment later.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“She was here,” Emma hears someone saying.

 

Emma doesn’t try to open her eyes or get anyone’s attention this time. It’s the fifth or sixth time she’s woken up in this hospital bed, and each time she ends up falling right back to sleep. It’s like her body is refusing to let her join the rest of the world. Instead, she just listens.

 

There’s laughter. Her dad. “She’s been here every day, Snow.”

 

“Yes, I know. But look,” she whispers, and then there’s a hand on Emma’s chin.

 

“Oh,” David says slowly.

 

Emma’s drifting off again, but she hears the word lipstick and feels a soft finger rubbing her cheek before she’s completely gone from the world inside her hospital room.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Would you wake up already?”

 

Emma would laugh if she could. Instead, she squeezes the fingers in her hand.

 

Regina’s breath catches. “So you can hear me.”

 

Emma doesn’t know how long Regina’s been talking to her, but the sound of her voice sounds the way strong coffee at 6 o’clock in the morning in the middle of a double shift tastes.

 

“Your parents are insufferable. There will be hell to pay when you wake up, Emma. Don’t think your heroics down there will be enough to keep you out of trouble with me.”

 

Emma doesn’t let go of Regina’s hand.

 

She squeezes it instead when she feels lips press to her cheek, soft and lingering, reminding her of when Snow had rubbed that very same spot and mentioned lipstick.

 

(This isn't the first cheek kiss, and Emma wonders how many other kisses there have been.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: kisses absently left on the backs of hands, fingers entwined in silent comfort


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got kinda long...

**kisses absently left on the backs of hands, fingers entwined in silent comfort**

 

Itches she can’t reach, Emma decides, are the absolute worst. She wiggles her toes and tries rubbing her left heel against the top of her right foot, but the itch only worsens, demands to be scratched. She’s been awake for three hours now, and trying to scratch her foot without twisting the wrong way and causing unnecessary pain to her bruised side is as exciting as it has gotten.

 

She’d been surprised to wake up to both silence and an empty hospital room, but even more surprised when it stayed that way and she actually remained awake long enough to notice that she was alone.  _Of course_ when she wakes up for real, all the people she had been able to hear and feel around her while in that weird place between being knocked out and awake were all gone. Perhaps that’s a good thing. She doesn’t need people hanging around her bed, worrying about her all hours of the day.

 

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t frown a little after the third hour passes and the only people to have come see her have been a couple of friendly nurses who worked swiftly and gossiped at the same time, and Whale, who, for once, didn’t make her skin crawl.

 

Emma’s using a pen she found on top of a notepad someone had left on the small table beside her bed to attempt to scratch her foot when someone knocks on the door, four low raps of knuckles against the hard surface. She twists too quickly and elbows herself in the process, sending a hot, searing pain shooting up her side. She gasps in surprise and blinks slowly, clutching her ribs – bruised ribs, Dr Whale had informed her when he came in to talk to her about the twelve days she’d missed out on. Emma’s eyes had widened at the number, and then he explained that they believed her magic had been the reason she was out so long.

 

The way he explained it made it sound like she had been drained of all her magic and it was both restoring itself and healing her, the process of restoring taking longer due to her magic’s instinct to protect and heal her. Most of what he had said went right over her head, honestly. Emma doesn’t exactly trust his knowledge on magic, anyway, and she can find out whatever she needs to know from Regina if something is wrong. She was more shocked about losing nearly two weeks than anything else.

 

Her head had been their biggest concern, but he assured her they found nothing to worry about and told her that after a few more tests, they would talk about getting her home. Emma still doesn’t really remember what happened, but she remembers colliding with sharp-edged stones and knows that bruised ribs being her only lasting injury means she’s pretty lucky. And those don’t even hurt too badly – if she’s not injuring herself all over again in her haste to find out who’s at the door, that is.

 

“August, what are you doing here?” Emma asks, reclining back and watching him enter the room. A smile overtakes her face as he holds up a paper bag from Granny’s and tosses his leather jacket into the visitor’s chair beside the bed.

 

“Repaying the favor, one might say. On my way out of here earlier, I heard that Storybrooke’s Sleeping Savior had finally been awoken from her terrible, terrible curse.”

 

“What?” There’s a hint of confused laughter in her voice and that amused glint that he gets before spinning a story out of nothing is in his eyes.

 

“Oh, so you haven’t heard?”

 

“‘Fraid not,” she tells him, opening the bag he had handed to her. The sweet smell of fried dough and icing meets her nose, and she could kiss him. (Well, not really – but maybe she’d give him one of her rare hugs.) “Please tell me both of these are for me,” she says without waiting for a response before pulling out a bear claw and taking a big bite from it. She’d been unable to keep down the food she had when she first woke up, but she’s been starving ever since.

 

“Of course they are,” August says as he puts one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. “Do you take me for a fool, Emma Swan? I know better than to get between you and your unfathomably large appetite.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes at his wink, but she grins around the sugary pastry. “So what was that before?” She gestures towards the door with her hand. She then brings the bear claw back to her mouth for another bite. “Sleeping Savior? A curse?”

 

“Right. Talk around town,” he explains. “After word got out about you being in the hospital, people took notice that you’d been ‘in a deep sleep’ for several days.” He makes air quotes as he speaks. “It’s astonishing the stories one can come up with when they do not know what is going on, and this is coming from me, so you know that there have been some pretty outrageous tales floating around.”

 

“Oh God,” Emma groans. For fairytale characters, the people of Storybrooke have some crazy wild imaginations, that’s for sure.

 

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

 

“As long as there weren’t people lining up to kiss me to try to break the spell or any other nonsense like that,” Emma mumbles absently, bringing her half-eaten bear claw up to her mouth. She pauses when he lifts his brow, and she narrows her eyes, a little horrified by the idea she’s now put in her head. “ _Please_ tell me nobody was thinking about kissing me awake.” August keeps a straight face for one too many seconds. “August?” she demands.

 

He laughs and shakes his head, finger playing with the bandanna tied around his neck. “Oh, your face.”

 

“Asshole.” She would toss something at him, but all she’s got is a hard metal pen and her food – and, well, she’s not going to waste perfectly good food. “I swear, you would think these people never heard of a coma before. Not every time someone’s in a ‘deep sleep’ there’s magic at play.”

 

“To be fair, you  _were_ in what one might call a magically induced coma.”

 

“Keyword being coma.” She shrugs her shoulders, eating the last bit of her bear claw and sucking the icing from her fingers. “And I don’t think it was really a coma. Whale doesn’t know what to call it, but he says that’s the closest thing to what it was. I woke up a few times, I think, I just couldn’t, I don’t know,  _get_ up.” She’s pretty sure she remembers trying to talk and seeing people around her, so coma’s not really the proper word. “So what have I missed?”

 

He scratches his neck and then cracks his knuckles. “Which time? While you were waiting for your true love to come wake you up, or while you were fighting Hades? I must say, you live quite the busy, magical life for one who didn’t even believe magic existed a few years ago, Emma Swan.”

 

Emma groans. “You’re telling me! I’m thinking it’s about time for a vacation from all of this.”

 

That seems to spark something in him, probably the traveling explorer that he will always be. “Where are we going?”

 

She laughs and leans her head back against her pillows. It feels good to talk to him again. She’s missed him, missed this version of him, the man she can laugh with and have as a friend.  _She misses laughing._ “You tell me. You’re the one who knows all the good spots to go to. Leave it up to me and we’ll be driving around aimlessly for days.” (She laughs about it, but when she pictures just jumping in the car and driving, she actually thinks it might be fun. Not with him, though, and surprisingly not by herself. She wonders what Regina would think about a road trip with her and the kid.)

 

“Australia,” August says after taking a long moment to consider his answer. He nods, scratches his scruffy face, and then repeats, “Austrailia.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, the Daintree Rainforest, to be precise. I would give anything to go back there,” he tells her and then starts talking about the rainforest like he’s a tour guide and Emma’s a tourist he’s showing around. She listens to him speak with passion, his voice flowing over her in warm waves until she’s drifting off.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Mr Booth,” Emma hears when she starts to wake up, the sound of Regina’s voice pulling her from her sleep.

 

There’s a crick in her neck that makes her grumble and brings Regina’s attention to her. Regina looks like she’s just entering the room – she’s practically still at the doorway. Emma notices August out of the corner of her eye, still sitting where he had been before Emma fell asleep while listening to him talk about his travels. But Emma’s more focused on the woman who is looking back at her like she wants to say something, or maybe do something, but is choosing to just stand there and look at Emma from a distance instead. It’s strange when Emma considers how many times she thinks she remembers Regina being by her side while she’d been in her magical sleep, how many times she sorta remembers Regina kissing her forehead or cheek and telling her – demanding, really – that she pull through and wake up because she was a stubborn fighter, and giving up was not what Emma did. (What  _her_ Emma did, she thinks she said, but she’s not willing to bet any money on that.)

 

So Emma breaks the odd moment with a wide grin and pushes herself up to sit properly. She’d given up on trying to make her hair look good when she first woke up, but for Regina, Emma runs her fingers through the tangled mess a few times. “Hey there.” She hisses when her finger pulls in her hair. “I guess you heard I woke up.”

 

Regina’s head moves in a half-nod, and then she clears her throat and glances over to August. “I came as soon as I was informed. I thought you might want something fresh to wear,” she says, holding up the leather duffle bag Emma hadn’t realized she was holding. “I guess I’m a little late to the party,” she says, eyeing August again.

 

Emma waves her hand dismissively. “It’s just August. You’re only the second person to have stopped by, actually. He brought me food and was keeping me company for a little while.”

 

“Of course he was,” Regina says with a tight smile, finally fully entering the room. “Where should I leave this?”

 

“Oh.” Emma glances around the room. “Uh. Anywhere’s fine, I guess. Thank you. You didn’t have to bring me anything. I’m sure my mom would have done that for me if I asked.”

 

Regina only responds with a small sound in her throat.

 

August looks between the two of them with an odd look on his face. Is he picking up how tense Regina is, too? How awkward the moment feels?

 

“I should probably head back upstairs,” he says after giving Emma a questioning look, one Emma responds to with a look of her own that says  _I don’t know_  in regard to Regina's apparently obvious weird mood.

 

“That’s right. You said you were here earlier. Is everything–”

 

“Oh, no, everything’s all right. I was visiting another patient when I heard the curse had been broken,” he says with a wink.

 

Emma chuckles. “Well, be sure to send my apologies for keeping you so long. And thanks for the bear claws. I owe you one.”

 

August gathers his jacket up in his arms and pats the side of her bed. “Maybe lunch when you’re better. We’ll catch up and plan our grand escape,” he says, sounding mysterious.

 

“Sounds nice,” she admits, furrowing her brow when Regina makes another one of those noises in her throat. Seriously, what was going on with Regina? “Give me a call or something, all right?”

 

“You got it,” he says, leaving without saying a word to Regina – not that Regina seems to care.

 

“Are you planning on going somewhere, Miss Swan?” Regina asks the moment they’re alone. She stands stiffly on the other side of the room, as far away from Emma as the room allows.

 

Emma shakes her head, her half-smile disappearing as she eyes Regina. “You know, for a person who came here to see me when you heard I was awake, you’re trying really hard to keep away from me.”

 

“Your point?” Regina asks, loosening her shoulders as though she hadn’t even realized how tense they were.

 

Emma crooks her finger and beckons the brunette closer. “My point,  _Madam Mayor_ , is that I like it better when you’re close by. And I was under the impression that you, maybe, I don’t know, at least lately, did as well.”

 

Regina crosses the room slowly, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her opened jacket. It’s the same black one she was wearing down in the Underworld. Underneath it, she’s wearing a deep purple dress that falls just above her knees. Emma likes the way the color looks against Regina’s skin, thinks she’d probably like the fit of the dress on her as well if she could get a better look – not that she’s trying to or anything like that.

 

“Happy?” Regina questions, stopping at the foot of the bed.

 

“Getting there. You could sit down, you know.” She tilts her head to the chair. “I promise I don’t smell that bad.”

 

Regina doesn’t laugh at her joke. Emma huffs out softly.

 

Something in Regina shifts at the sound, and then a moment later the brunette is not only sitting down in the seat, she has moved it closer to Emma. “You’ve smelt worse,” Regina says after getting comfortable, ducking her head but not doing so fast enough to hide the smirk on her lips.

 

Emma's heart soars and she grins so hard her cheeks hurt. “God, I’ve missed you,” she breathes out loudly.

 

Regina’s eyes are suddenly on her, and there’s confusion and surprise and something  _strange_ in them.

 

“I just mean, um, well– yeah, no.” She shakes her head, still smiling at Regina. “Nope, that is what I mean. I’ve missed you.”

 

And maybe it makes no sense, because it’s not like she actually went anywhere or anything. But it feels like forever since, well, she’s not sure, but it just feels like it’s been a long time. So she smiles and holds out her hand, palm side up, and waits for Regina to tentatively place her own on top of Emma’s. It’s warm, just like Emma knew it would be, her touch delicate. When Emma curls her fingers up and strokes the side of Regina’s hand, she smiles with something that looks a whole lot like wonderment in her russet eyes and curls her own fingers downward.

 

There’s this feeling you get when you go a long time without something you desperately need, so long that you ache, physically ache, for it. It’s more than just a yearning – it’s an actual pull in one’s chest, a voice inside your head crying out, a feeling of pure wanting. The only way to quiet that voice, to soothe the ache, is to feed the hunger that lives inside you. Regina’s touch does that. Regina does that for Emma. 

 

“You visited me while I was in my weird magical coma thing, didn’t you?” Emma asks, squeezing Regina’s hand when it feels like she might start to pull back.

 

“Magical coma thing?” Regina shakes her head and rolls her eyes. (Regina does that a lot, but she does it with a smile twitching at her lips like she’s trying to hide that there’s something about Emma that she finds endearing.)

 

Emma smirks, because Regina’s obvious about how she doesn’t think of Emma as an annoyance anymore, even if she tries to act like she does. “Just go with it,” she tells her.

 

“I may have stopped by from time to time, yes. Someone had to make sure they were taking care of you properly, and we both know neither of your parents were the right person for the job. Snow had been too worried about her precious daughter to be in charge of this situation – which was understandable. And your father–” A quick laugh-like sound bubbles inside her throat. “Let’s just say, David and Whale don’t see eye to eye. Out of the three of us, I was the most level-headed one, believe it or not.”

 

Emma snorts. “Thank you for being there for them, and for me.”

 

“That is what family is for, is it not?!” Regina says, a tad whimsical.

 

Emma’s eyes fall down to their hands, her chest warm at the thought. Family. But is that all they are to one another? It feels like more. She’s not sure what it feels like, but definitely more than just family. She pulls Regina’s hand on to her lap and brings her other hand over so she can trace the raised veins and bones, and the other woman lets her. Yeah, this definitely feels like more than just family. But she’s not going to question it, not when she doesn’t know if questioning what all of this means will mean it’ll have to stop.

 

“So I’ve missed out on two weeks. Anything important happen? How’s Henry? What have you been up to? I didn’t even ask. Did everyone else make it here safely?”

 

Regina doesn’t answer any of her questions, though. She’s completely distracted by Emma’s fingers. Her face is screwed up a little, nose wrinkled; she has this whole concentration face thing going on, and Emma thinks it’s kinda...cute. So instead of repeating her questions, Emma turns Regina’s hand over in hers and traces the lines on her palm instead. They can just sit in silence if that’s what Regina wants. They can talk later. Emma can wait.

 

Her fingers glide down to Regina’s wrists, and the brunette’s fingers twitch. Emma grins and does it again. Yep, Emma can just sit here like this.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Except, maybe not.

 

Not even two minutes later, there are people everywhere and noise and hugs and  _careful with her side, Snow_ and  _there’s really too many of you in here,_  and Emma just wants to hold Regina’s hand.

 

Regina had pulled away as soon as they heard someone walking in, and then she’d kept her distance even though her warmth didn’t disappear.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Everybody’s acting like she’s broken, and it’s really pissing Emma off. She’s not even terribly injured, and her magic has done a fantastic job with healing most of her injuries for her. Besides, it’s been two whole weeks of laying in bed. Now, she’s only a little sore. She’s certainly able to walk on her own, so there’s no need for her mother to be holding on to her arm while they go out to the car the next morning.

 

 _Just let them help you_ , she tries telling herself, but it feels strange being babied when there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fine – unless you ask Snow, who insists that she’s not, even though Emma’s the only one who can tell how much pain she is or isn’t in. And it’s not like they would have discharged her if there was something majorly wrong with her.

 

It’s when Snow is buckling the seat belt for her that Emma snaps. “I could do it myself if you just gave me a chance.”

 

The hurt that floods Snow’s face hurts Emma more than her words had probably hurt her mother, and she feels ungrateful and regrets being bothered by someone wanting to help her. She sighs and leans back in her seat. Snow hands her the seat belt and then closes the door for her. Emma watches her mother take the long way around to the driver’s seat, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tries to figure out how to apologize and explain without hurting her mother’s feelings more.

 

Snow slides into her seat quietly, keeping her eyes forward. She’s trying to keep herself together, but Emma’s never known her to be able to keep her emotions hidden. She swallows slowly and breathes out twice before wrapping her hands around the steering wheel, milky skin somehow managing to become even more pale from her tight grip.

 

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m sorry.”

 

Snow nods her head, smiles, but she doesn’t look Emma’s way. She also doesn’t drive. And when Emma realizes why, it feels like someone’s stabbed her in her gut. Snow wipes at her cheek and then clears her throat, face growing red.

 

Emma doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been good with people crying. So Emma sits quietly, too, and doesn’t ask if they’re ever going to actually drive out of the hospital parking lot.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“I’m terrible,” moans Emma, dropping her head down on the kitchen island with a loud thump.

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear,” Regina says as she moves around the kitchen. “You mother is fine. It’s not the first time Snow’s feelings have been hurt, and it won’t be the last time. She’s a lot stronger than you think.”

 

“You didn’t see her face, Regina. She was just trying to help me. And what do I do? I yell at her. I yelled at her about a stupid seat belt. A seat belt.” Emma lifts her head and looks at Regina’s back. She’s cooking dinner, had been chopping vegetables when Henry let Emma in, Emma who had not been invited over for dinner but was not turned away. “I made her cry.”

 

Regina looks over her shoulder and meets Emma’s eyes. “I doubt she was crying because you told her that you could fasten the seat belt by yourself.”

 

Regina sounds certain, but Emma feels doubtful.

 

A pot is clicked shut, and then Regina is leaning over the island on her forearms. “It’s been a long two weeks for everyone, Emma. Your mother just went back to work yesterday for the first time since we’ve been home. She hasn’t wanted to leave your side.” Regina dampens her lips. “I think,” she says slowly, like the words are still coming together in her head, “that not knowing when or if you were going to wake up and not being able to do anything to help you caused her a great amount of stress.”

 

“And then I–”

 

Regina holds her hand up and stops Emma from speaking. “Snow was worried about you, as any mother would have worried for their child. What happened in the parking lot, from the way you’ve explained it, sounds to me like the weight of the situation had finally become too much for her to bear. Like I said, Snow is a tough woman, annoyingly so at times, but even she has a breaking point. And on top of that, to have spent weeks wanting to do something for you–”

 

“Yeah, I basically made her feel like I don’t need her. I get it.” Emma groans lowly, rolling her shoulders. “I wasn’t even thinking about how she felt. I get it, how difficult that must have been for her. But at the same time, I’m just not used to someone fretting over me the way she does. Even after this time we’ve had together, it feels–”

 

“Unfamiliar,” Regina says.

 

“I was going to say weird, but, yeah,”

 

“Hmm.” Regina glances to the doorway of the kitchen, and then her eyes slowly move back to Emma’s. “May I ask you something personal? I understand if you’d rather I not.”

 

Emma gives Regina a confused look, but she nods her head in agreement and watches as Regina quickly turns around to check on the sizzling pan. Emma picks at her fingernail absently as she waits. She had offered to help out in the kitchen, but Regina had declined her offer and told her to just sit down because she's supposed to be resting. Emma’s tired of resting, but she had pulled out one of the seats at the island and vented without getting too restless.

 

Regina takes out two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine when she’s finished checking on the food. “Are you on any medication?” Emma shakes her head in the negative. Her side hasn’t bothered her any since the morning, no more than what she could manage. “How does merlot sound to you?”

 

“You know it’s all the same to me.”

 

“Have I honestly taught you nothing since we’ve become friends?” Regina asks with one of those eye rolls that are too affectionate to be anything but a sign of how much Regina has grown to enjoy Emma’s presence.

 

“Yeah, plenty.”

 

Regina raises an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. “Well...”

 

Emma licks her lips, thinking about it. Her eyebrows knit together. “Um.”

 

“Oh, dear,” she says, starting to laugh as she reaches across the bar and places her hand on Emma’s arm. She shakes her head, making her hair slip from where it had been tucked behind her ear. Emma presses her nails into her palm to keep herself from reaching forward to tuck the hair back in place. “No, don’t. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“What?” Emma pouts.

 

“You’re thinking far too hard. If it’s that difficult for you to think of something, then I’ve clearly taught you nothing of value.”

 

Emma snatches the bottle of wine from the counter and leans up from the stool so she can reach and take the corkscrew that is in Regina’s hand. “Or maybe I’ve just learned so much that it’s hard trying to pick one thing to mention. Huh? Huh? Yeah.” Regina only continues to laugh at her – which,  _God_ , how did Emma go her whole life without hearing that sound every day? “Laugh it up, but you know I’m right.”

 

“I know no such thing, Emma.”

 

Regina’s eyes sparkle when she gets like this, when she lets herself just laugh. It doesn’t last too long, almost as if she suddenly realizes what she’s doing and forces herself to stop, but that light in her eyes doesn’t fade. She shakes her head and walks around to the other bar stool and sits down, the empty wine glasses waiting for Emma to fill.

 

Emma wants to tell Regina to stop doing that, to just let herself enjoy the moment. She wants to tell Regina how beautiful the sound of her laughter is, wants her to know about the way Emma’s insides feel like their melting with all the sudden heat that fills her body. Emma wants Regina to know she’d do anything to hear the sounds of her happiness every second of the day, give up everything to her name for the richness of her laugh and the warmth in her eyes. Instead, she bites the corner of her lip and pours them wine, glancing up to catch Regina’s eyes before looking away.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Regina never asks her whatever she had wanted to know, and Emma forgets about it completely until she’s home alone later that night.

 

_May I ask you something personal?_

 

Emma makes a face at her reflection in the bathroom mirror while brushing her teeth. She’s suddenly quite curious and has a desperate need to know what Regina was going to ask her. They had been talking about Snow, but there was something about the hesitance in Regina’s eyes that made Emma wonder if perhaps what Regina wanted to talk about was about something else.

 

Why hadn’t Regina ever asked her? Regina wasn’t normally one to hold back with anyone. If she had something to say, Regina said it. She was blunt to a fault, and Emma was used to it, sometimes found herself going to her to talk about things because she knew Regina would tell her what she needed to hear. Regina’s hesitance was strange, different, and made the growing curiosity inside her reach new levels. There are so many layers to Regina, Emma is discovering, and Emma is surprised by the ones that look like they haven’t been seen by anyone else in a very long time. She’s surprised, yes, but she’s also rather intrigued.

 

Emma spits out the toothpaste in her mouth and then rinses with water, accepting she'll probably never know what Regina wanted to ask.

 

After being with Regina and Henry for the evening, it’s noticeably much quieter in her empty house. There is no Henry catching her up on all the important things that had happened around town. (The kid has been the only one to actually fill her in on stuff she genuinely cares about.) There’s no Regina telling her to take her feet off the coffee table when she sits down in the living room. There’s no television playing mindless TV, or the commentary coming from Regina that both Henry and Emma have to make stop because Regina has an opinion about  _everything_ and they’ll never actually hear the show if she has to share each of them.

 

There’s no warmth in her house. There’s only her and a bunch of space that she’s never going to fill.

 

Emma regrets not accepting Snow’s offer to stay at the loft for her last week of mandatory leave. Yeah, the sound of a baby crying all the time would have gotten a little annoying, but at least she wouldn’t have been alone. Hadn’t she had enough time to herself when she was sleeping for twelve days?

 

It’s not too late, she thinks. Snow would probably accept her with opened arms and have something warm in her hands before she could even think about wanting a late night non-alcoholic drink. It would kind of be really nice to have that. But she thinks about how awkward it had been when her mother dropped her off earlier, and then she shuts down the idea. They need more time, at least the night. She doesn’t want her showing up to feel like it’s because she feels bad for how she reacted to Snow, well, being the mother she is, and she doesn’t want it to be her loneliness that makes her go. She wants to go spend time with them just because, and if she goes tonight, she’ll mostly be going because she’s feeling lonely.

 

So Emma gets up and puts on some music, decides to stop being so pathetic and get used to living on her own – even if the house is too big for her and it makes her think of the person she was supposed to be sharing it with.

 

As she’s scrolling through her iPod, she briefly wonders if there are any available apartments she can move into.

 

She’s completely blissed out later, stretched out on the sofa, absently rubbing her bruised side, humming along to classic rock, when her phone vibrates on the coffee table. She considers ignoring it, because it’s  _really_ far, like super far, gotta sit up to reach it far, but it’s late and she knows only a handful of people would actually be texting her. So she forces herself to sit up just long enough to snatch the device from the table.

 

 **_Henry:_ ** **left this**

 

There’s a picture of her scarf with the message, but what catches her attention is Regina in the background.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I’ll come get it tmrrw. Thnx.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Did you just take that?**

 

 ** _Henry:_  ** **the pic?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **yeah**

 

 ** _Henry:_**   **a few minutes ago before I came upstairs. Why?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Stop being nosey.**

 

 ** _Henry:_  ** **:shocked face: ME? you’re the one with the odd questions.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I’m your mother. I can do that. Duh.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? Don’t you have school or smthn tmrrw?**

 

 ** _Henry:_  ** **I’m going MOM.**

 

Emma grins.

 

 **_Henry:_ ** **night.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Goodnight. Thanks for letting me know about the scarf.**

 

Emma waits a few minutes before going back to her phone, pressing her finger down on a different name in her recent messages. She writes out four different messages, corrects her spelling and grammar on each of them, worries about her wording, and then decides on the simplest text she can think of.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Hey.**

 

Emma lets out a loud breath and rests her phone on her chest. She’s never regretted sending a text message faster than she regrets sending that one. She almost hopes she doesn’t get a response. But if she doesn’t, she’ll spend all night wondering why she didn’t.

 

It seems like she’s going to get her wish after five minutes go by without her phone vibrating to inform her of a new message. It’s not like she actually  _needs_ anything, so she shouldn’t be too upset about it. She’s just lonely and trying to find something to occupy her time, she tries to reason with herself. But that’s not true. She didn’t send the text message because she’s lonely. She’d sent it because one little glimpse of Regina in Henry’s picture made Emma miss her.

 

Apparently, she was foolish to think Regina might actually want to talk to her as well, though. Maybe they just aren’t those kind of friends, the kind who can talk about nothing late at night. Emma doesn’t have any friends like that. She had had them, and then one turned out to be her mother and the other a werewolf who had left Storybrooke to find more of her kind. (Emma hopes she finds what she’s looking for, knows from experience how hard it is to feel different from everyone around you when you just want to be surrounded by people who understand you.)

 

Emma forces herself to stop thinking about Regina and goes upstairs to her bedroom. There’s very little in the room, basically nothing. There’s a bed, a nightstand, and a lamp. Her clothes are either in the closet or the bags she still hasn’t unpacked, and she has no idea if she’ll take them out of there anytime soon. Living in the house that was supposed to be for her and her boyfriend just doesn’t feel right. It makes her think of him, and her thoughts about him have been nothing but negative ones all day. Once again she wonders about vacant apartments and decides that’s how she’ll spend her mandatory time off. It might not be the bedrest Whale wants for her, but she doesn’t feel like she needs to be stuck in bed any longer than she already has been. They don’t want her back as sheriff yet, fine. She’s not in any rush to clip her badge on after all she’s been through, anyway. But she can’t just sit around and do nothing.

 

Emma yawns once she’s under the covers, and it’s then that her phone vibrates beside her in the bed. She reaches for it – way too eagerly – and can’t stop the grin that starts pulling at the corners of her mouth when she sees it’s a response from Regina.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I was cleaning up for the night, so I’m just now seeing your message. Is everything all right?**

 

Emma sends a quick  **Everything’s fine.**  and then thinks about what she wants to say for a moment before sending a second message.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I can’t sleep.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I wasn’t aware I was running an insomnia hotline.**

 

Regina texts with proper grammar and spelling and absolutely no emojis – and so does Emma most of the time when texting her, unless she’s in a rush, but Regina can drop a few letters from time to time when in a rush as well – so sometimes it’s hard to figure out the mood she’s in. So she responds carefully.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Guess it’s a good thing I just wanted to talk to you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What about?**

 

Emma doesn’t know. Emma really has no idea. She should just make something up, she thinks, staring at the bright screen as she lays in her dark room. But what could she say? What would be believable?

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Emma?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Sorry. I was thinking.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Well that certainly explains what’s taking you so long.**

 

Emma grins stupidly at her phone.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny.**

 

And then Emma gets an idea and sits up in bed. She switches her lamp on and takes a picture of herself with a straight face. It takes three tries because her grin doesn’t want to go away. She sends the picture and then waits for a response with an insane amount of butterflies in her stomach. (She should have fixed her hair before taking the picture, and maybe put on some chapstick or something. She probably shouldn’t have sent Regina the picture to begin with, because, like she had told herself earlier, they aren’t those kind of friends.)

 

Emma gets so nervous waiting for a response that she decides to just change topics. She doesn’t know what it is about Regina that makes her feel this way, but she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like feeling like her stomach is turning itself into a tangled knot and her heart is trying to pound its way free from her chest. She may be having a hard time defining their friendship lately, but she knows those aren’t the kind of reactions she should be having to  _any_ of her friends.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Did Snow and David tell you about family dinner this Saturday?**

 

Regina’s response is immediate, so it makes Emma wonder why she hadn’t responded to her previous messages. Was the picture seriously that bad of a move?

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **It was actually my idea. I thought we could all benefit from the night together as a family.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You’re really embracing this family thing, huh?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Only when I’m not considering strangling you or your mother because of something idiotic you’ve done.**

 

 ** _Emma:_**   **What about David?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **He’s grown on me.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **And I haven’t? I’m pretty sure I have. I’m pretty sure you like me most out of the three of us.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **If you’re “pretty sure” about it, I don’t see why you’re asking me.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Doesn’t hurt to hear someone say it every now and then.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Say what? That you’re the most tolerable out of a group of people who were once the bane of my existence?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **forget it**

 

Emma puts her phone down and buries her head in her pillow. She doesn’t understand why things have to be so hard with Regina sometimes. It gets a little tiring, especially when she feels like she’s always going to be more open about her feelings than Regina is - and Emma’s not really the feeling-sharing kind of person that’s okay with that.

 

Emma’s phone vibrates, but she ignores it.

 

Regina, apparently, dislikes being ignored. There’s a second text message two minutes later that Emma almost ignores as well. But the stupid, needy part of her that just wants to talk to Regina doesn’t know how to ignore the other woman.

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **If I were to choose a favorite out of the three of you, it would be you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I find you more than tolerable.**

 

Emma rolls her eyes at Regina’s text messages.

 

 ** _Emma:_**   **Thanks.**

 

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the effort – because she can tell Regina hadn’t easily told her that – it’s just that it doesn’t feel  _right_. It feels forced and like Regina thought too long on her word choices. It doesn’t sound like what Emma wants to hear, and maybe she’s just wanting too much from Regina and should stop thinking so hard about everything.

 

She sighs, and when her phone vibrates with Regina’s next text, she doesn’t rush to read it.

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I don’t normally text anyone this much at once.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Is that your way of saying you want to stop?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **No. It was merely something I wanted to point out to you.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **We can stop.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **My point in telling you that wasn’t because I no longer wish to talk to you. I was telling you so that you might realize that I clearly like you enough to be up talking to you when I have work in the morning.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Oh.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Perhaps I should just go to sleep.**

 

Emma groans into her pillow, loudly.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Me too.**

 

Emma stares at her phone, and then mentally smacks herself on the back of her head. That was definitely the wrong response – which is probably why Regina doesn’t say anything else to her and Emma spends fifteen minutes looking at her stupid text message.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I can’t sleep.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **It was easier when you were beside me.**

 

Emma closes her eyes and holds her phone in her hand, squeezing it so tightly it starts to hurt a little. She wants to undo her mistake, but she can’t. Regina was letting her in in her own way, and Emma had responded without thinking and totally messed it all up. She might not have been able to take back her messages and take the time to think about a good response, but she could give Regina some of her own honesty. It’s even harder through text than it had been in person. There’s a much longer waiting time before she gets a response, and that means more time for Emma to regret exposing her vulnerabilities to someone. It feels like hours have passed before a response comes through, and when one does, it does not relieve the tightness in her stomach. In fact, that only worsens.

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **It was a stressful time for you when we were in the Underworld. A good scalp massage can work wonders. I’m not surprised you slept well.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **That’s not what I meant.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You’ll have an easier time falling asleep if you put your phone to charge and actually try to sleep.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Are you purposely ignoring what I’m trying to say?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Yes and no.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **??**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Tell me what you want to say, exactly what you want to say, and I won’t ignore it.**

 

Emma’s heart beats quickly in her chest. She licks her lips and carefully types out a message, and then a second one.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I slept well in your arms. I slept well BECAUSE I was there. I don’t cuddle with people. I haven’t in a really long time, and you’re only the second person I’ve done that with. I can’t sleep because I miss the way you felt against me.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **It’s my first night having to sleep without you since that night, and I guess I wish I didn’t have to. I know it sounds stupid. But I don’t think I can fall asleep on my own.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **It’s been almost two weeks.**

 

Emma frowns at the phone, because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long for her. It feels like just yesterday Regina had let her sleep on her lap, like just yesterday Regina had held her as they slept. It doesn’t feel like two weeks. But then another text message comes through and she realizes that Regina wasn’t trying to make her realize how much time had actually gone by since that night.

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **This is my first night sleeping in my bed since we’ve been back. So I understand. It doesn’t sound stupid to me. I spent every night in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed because of that very reason.**

 

Emma pulls the second pillow to her and holds it to her body, squeezes her arm around it. It feels nothing like Regina; it doesn’t smell anything like her.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You should have invited me to stay the night.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **A sleepover, Emma? Really?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Adults can have sleepovers, can’t they? Pretty sure you secretly wanted to have one with me last year. I remember something about braiding hair and prank phone calls...**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Adults don’t have sleepovers. And you’re even more delusional than I thought if you honestly believed I wanted that.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Yeah they do.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Not the kind you’re suggesting.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I didn’t suggest anything but inviting me over and cuddling. Tell me that doesn’t sound good to you too.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **That doesn’t sound good to me.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Now *honestly* tell me it doesn’t sound good.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Emma, is there a point to this conversation?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **And you call me an idiot. I thought I already made it clear. I want to sleep with you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Careful with your wording.**

 

Emma’s cheeks grow warm.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I want to sleep with you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Emma.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **What?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Emma.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Wait.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Don’t go.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’m sorry.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’m not ready to be alone yet.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **How would we explain that? The two of us sharing a bed when there is absolutely no reason for it?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Explain it to who? Henry? I don’t think he would question it. It might be strange to him, but only because it’s not the norm or whatever. But he was down there with us. It’s not like we’d really need to explain much to him.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **And others?**

 

**_Emma: What others?_ **

 

And then Emma suddenly remembers Robin and her heart sinks.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You mean Robin?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Why would I mean Robin?**

 

Her eyebrows knit together.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Just thought you might be worried about what your boyfriend might think about you sleeping with someone else. I mean, even if we’re only sleeping.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Robin isn’t my boyfriend. I was thinking of your parents when I asked my initial question.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Huh??? Since when...?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I’d rather not discuss that.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **ok**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **As for my parents, you can tell them whatever you like. I don’t see why they would have to know.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I only meant if they were to find out.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **This sounds like you’re considering it.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I might be.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **What do you sleep in?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Why does this feel like the beginning of poorly thought out phone sex?**

 

Emma laughs loudly in her bedroom.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **How much thought do you actually put into phone sex?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Do you honestly think I’ve had phone sex before?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I honestly don’t think much about your sex life...**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Good. You shouldn’t.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **So does this mean you haven’t had phone sex before??**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **EMMA!**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **All caps. I must have been a very bad girl.**

 

Emma just can’t help herself sometimes. Regina’s fun to mess with, and if neither of them are going to sleep, she might as well find a way to entertain herself.

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Inappropriate is more like it.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’m just getting started. That was nothing.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **If you wish to continue this conversation, you’ll stop.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Fine. But I really do want to know what you wear to bed.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **And what reason could you possibly have for wanting to know that?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **If we’re going to have an adult sleepover, I need to know how to dress.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What do you normally sleep in?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You’ve seen what I normally sleep in.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I don’t believe I have.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Did I not make a lasting impression?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Apparently not.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’ll do better next time.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **And I sleep in as little as possible most of the time. I like to keep my legs free.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **That won’t do. You’ll wear pants.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Shorts.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Pants.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **What? Are you afraid of a little skin to skin contact? Seriously?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **With you? Yes.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Come on. I’m willing to put shorts on for you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Putting clothes on for someone instead of taking them off must be a new concept for you.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Are you insulting me?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **No.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Felt like you were trying to.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I think by now you know me well enough to know when I’m insulting you, Emma.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Will you be wearing pants?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Perhaps.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **What if I asked you not to?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You wish to control what I wear to bed?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Not if you’re going to put it like that I don’t. I’d simply like to make a request.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Make it.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I like the way your skin feels.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **That’s not a request.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **No, it was something I probably shouldn’t have said.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I could have guessed that on my own.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Doesn’t mean I have to make things easier for you.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **What’s your request?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I want to be able to feel you.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Regina?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What did I tell you about your wording?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **It’s late.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **That’s not an excuse for not thinking about how what you’re saying might be perceived.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You act like I’m talking out loud around a bunch of people. It’s just you.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You should worry about how I might perceive what you say. Think before you text.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Are you this controlling in bed?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Emma!**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **It’s late.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **So you’ve just informed me.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Is that your excuse for everything this late at night?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Not an excuse. More like an explanation. Sort of a warning.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **A warning?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **My filter has a cut-off time.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I wasn’t aware you had one.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Trust me, I do. You’d notice it more if you talked to me more this time at night.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I prefer sleeping at this time most nights.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **So far I think I’m enjoying talking to you more.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I’m flattered.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I was being genuine.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What makes you think I wasn’t?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Because you enjoy being an asshole too much for that.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You have a point.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I still like you though. Even when you’re an asshole just for the fun of it.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You need to go to sleep.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Come make me.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Does your lack of a filter also strip away some of your maturity?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Maybe.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Great. And the night keeps getting better.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **So how’s your first night staying up texting going for you? Are you seriously hating it as much as you thought you would?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I’ve had worse nights.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’ve enjoyed it as well.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **So... Sleepover?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What about it?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **When can I come over? What will you wear?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You seriously want to do this?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I didn’t tell you I wanted to for the fun of it. If you don’t want to, just tell me now.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **What happens the night after that when we find ourselves wanting to do it again?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You’re not getting me to wear pants two nights in a row.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Are you incapable of having a mature conversation, Miss Swan?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **If you’re gonna call me that, then maybe...**

 

Emma sighs when Regina doesn’t text her back.

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Fine. If we want to do it again, then why the hell can’t we?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Because once is already probably too much.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **If it were up to me, I’d find a way into your bed every night.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You’re doing it again. Do you even read your texts before sending them?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Maybe you just can’t keep your mind out of the gutter...**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Yes, that’s the most probable explanation.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I was being serious, you know... So whenever you want to, just invite me to stay.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **So it’s up to me all the time?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Is that a problem?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Perhaps I don’t wish to put myself in a position where I’m exposing a part of myself every time I might want you to stay the night.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I’m not going to turn you down if that’s what you’re worried about.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You don’t know that.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **It’s not like I’m doing anything else at night. Why would I say no?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **People change their minds about what they want. I’m sure you know that as well I do. And just because you’re available tonight or the next one, that doesn’t mean you’ll be available whenever I want you here.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You don’t understand what it means to me to be wanted if you think that. Unless it’s some kind of emergency situation going on, I’m not going to tell you no.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **And what if you start dating?**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You’re just looking for excuses now, aren’t you?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **It’s a legitimate question.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Dating who?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I don’t keep track of the men interested in dating you. Your wooded friend looked quite comfortable beside your bed when I arrived.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You almost sound jealous.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **You wish.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Maybe a little.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Your lack of a filter is proving to be more interesting than I expected it would.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **We’re getting off track...**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Saturday night.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **That’s when the dinner is at my parents place.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Henry will be spending the night there. I’d prefer waiting until then.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **You want me all alone in the house to have your wicked way with me. Don’t you?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Yes, Emma. That’s exactly what I want.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **I hate texts. I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **I guess you’ll never know.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **So Saturday?**

 

 ** _Regina:_  ** **Yes.**

 

 ** _Emma:_  ** **Can’t wait.**

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma had to check with Henry before she got ready to make sure everybody still met up at the diner for breakfast before separating for their days. It had been a long time since they had the chance to enjoy a quiet morning as a family, and she’d been sleeping the whole time since they all came back to Storybrooke. Emma wasn’t surprised when he told her they’d been having breakfast in her hospital room instead of the diner. From what she gathered, neither her parents, son, nor Regina had been too eager to leave her side.

 

It’s their first morning having a proper family gathering outside of the hospital since before everything with the Author went done – well, first gathering that’s just about spending time together. Emma finds that she’s actually looking forward to it. She’s tired from staying up talking to Regina and only getting an hour of sleep, but she feels more like herself than she has in a long time. In the shower, she had done some thinking – because it’s the best place for that, of course – and she decided that she needs to make a better effort with her parents, with her family.

 

In the relatively short amount of time she’s had with them, they’ve spent most of that time fighting magical battles, going through portals, and very little time just getting to be a family. Realizing her fuck up with bringing them to the Underworld made her realize just how much they would do for her, and she wants to feel like she actually deserves the unconditional support and love they give her.

 

A knock on her car window makes her jump, and then grin when she sees Henry’s face. She opens the door and steps out, happy to see him. “Hey, Henry. You’re here early.”

 

“So are you. We’re not supposed to meet for another fifteen minutes. Since when are you ever early getting anywhere?” He eyes her suspiciously, like she’s up to something.

 

“I was up, so I decided to just head over here,” she says, ruining whatever wild stories he was coming up with in his head. She shuts her car door and then puts her hand on his back and guides him around the car and into the diner. “Where’s your mom? Why are  _you_ here so early?”

 

Granny greets them both with a smile when she looks up at the sound of the bell over the door.

 

Henry hurries over to their table in front of the window and slides his bag from his shoulders. Emma watches him with curiosity in her eyes, standing beside the table with her hands in the back pockets of her skinny jeans.

 

“Mom’s at the pharmacy picking up my allergy medicine. It doesn’t look like I’ll be needing it anymore, though.”

 

“You were sick?” she asks with a sad frown. It’s one of many things she seems to have missed while she was asleep, but this she actually hates that she had to miss. She doesn’t _want_ Henry to have to be sick, but she’s had so little experience with dealing with his sicknesses that she wants to have been able to be a part of that. She wants to have been able to help take care of him.

 

“Yeah, no biggie,” he tells her, finally sitting down after pulling out a notebook from his bag. “Sit, sit,” he tells her urgently, looking at her with a strange look since she’s still standing up.

 

“Oh, right.” Emma takes the seat across from him and folds her arms on top of the table, leaning forward and wondering what’s in the book he’s flipping through.

 

“Last night after you left, I put this together for you,” he tells her. He grins like he’s so proud of himself, and Emma can’t help but smile just as widely when he turns the book to face her. She’s looking at him, though. Sometimes she’s still amazed that this kid is a part of her, that she gave birth to such a remarkable human being. “Emma, the book,” he insists.

 

“Okay, okay,” she says with a small laugh. She hasn’t seen him full of this much enthusiasm in a while, and she’s glad to see that getting older didn’t mean he lost that all that excited energy in him for good. It’s still in there, just calmer now. “Let’s see what you’ve got here, kid.”

 

“It’s a list of all the important things you’ll need to know. I know it was only two weeks, but some important things have happened, and people are going to talk about it without filling you in.”

 

Emma scans the list, lifting her brow here and there, smiling at his thoughtfulness, laughing at his little jokes in the margins. “Sweet,” she says with a nod, flipping over to the next page like the arrow at the bottom of the first one tells her to do. “Henry, you’re a genius. This was such a good idea.”

 

“Well, you know.” He shrugs modestly, and she grins at him like the proud mother she is. Her kid. Really? How? “Mom helped me out a little. She added the bit about Frankie’s no longer serving that macaroni and cheese you like.”

 

Emma's grin only grows on her cheeks, and she  _knows_ she looks silly, but dammit she doesn’t care. “Of course she did. I’m surprised she even knew, though. She hates his food, says it’s bland and calls his recipes unimaginable. Last time I picked us up lunch from there, she made me return it and demand a refund.”

 

Henry smiles at her, but it’s not like he’s smiling because of her, it’s like he’s smiling because of something that he’s not going to tell her, something that has Operation Whatever-Whatever written all over it. “Mom’s is better, you know. You should come over for dinner the next time she makes it.”

 

“Inviting people over for dinner without asking me first. I was sure I taught you better than that, Henry.”

 

Emma perks up at the sound of Regina’s voice. (Hadn’t she just spent all night talking to the woman? Has she really become this hungry for her attention that everything inside her just lights up when Regina’s around? Is that even healthy? Probably not. But Emma can’t seem to care.)

 

Henry moves over a seat and gives his to Regina. “Hey, Mom. I was just showing Emma our list.”

 

Emma watches Regina remove her jacket and neatly fold it over the back of her chair. Today’s a pantsuit day, rich dark colors mixed with the soft blue of her silk blouse. Regina catches Emma giving her a look-over, but the brunette only quirks an eyebrow and smirks a little as she takes her seat. Emma shrugs her shoulders to the silent question and turns her attention back to the book. She’s usually more subtle when she checks people out – or at least she thinks she is – but she doesn’t think Regina is oblivious, is pretty sure that she knows Emma finds her attractive. It’s too late to hide something like that, and Regina doesn’t seem bothered by Emma’s attention. Emma’s sure Regina’s used to people, lots of people, looking at her the way Emma does. She’s just one of many, so it’s not like it’s a big deal.

 

Why does that make Emma upset, though?

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Henry does most of the talking while they wait for Snow, David, and Baby Neal.

 

He doesn’t exactly give his mothers much of a chance to talk, something Regina and Emma share affectionate eye rolls over as he jumps from one topic to another. Regina’s completely engrossed – like she always is whenever Henry does so much as breathe – but Emma’s paying more attention to the way Regina eats up every word Henry says and how Henry feeds off her obvious interest.

 

She’s both a part of the moment and an observer, and for once she doesn’t mind just being on the outside looking in. Because she knows she doesn’t have to be, knows that she’s allowed to be a part of the mother-son moment that is playing out in front of her. But she wants to watch, wants to soak up the way Henry commands every bit of Regina’s attention and she gives it to him without hesitation, actually listens like she cares about how Pongo brought him back three balls when he played fetch with him, and how none of them had even been the one Henry threw.

 

“Isn’t that hilarious?” Henry asks, and she realizes he’s looking at her.

 

Emma blinks owlishly. “Uhhh.”

 

Regina chuckles quietly behind the coffee she’d ordered. “Do try to keep up, Emma.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes with far too much exasperation and then gives her a disapproving shake of his head. “You didn’t hear a thing I just said, did you?”

 

“Of course I did. You were talking about, uh.” Emma dampens her lips and looks at Regina for help. Regina looks away as if she hadn’t seen the pleading look Emma was giving her. “Well.” The door opens and the bell chimes. Her parents walk in with her baby brother, and Emma lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank, God,” she mumbles, of course not quietly enough.

 

“Pay attention,” Henry chastises her, and she sighs and nods.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he says, just like that, and then he’s grinning and getting up to help Snow like nothing had happened.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Mom, can I talk to you?” Emma asks after they’ve all eaten breakfast.

 

Snow looks away from her plate and smiles at Emma. “Of course, honey. Right now?”

 

Emma nods, looking around the full table. “Maybe over at the counter,” she suggests.

 

David looks at his watch and makes a surprised sound in his throat. “I’m going to get going. You want me to drop Neal off on my way so you two can talk?”

 

Snow glances over to Regina, who nods, which Emma doesn’t understand, and then smiles at David. “That would be lovely if you don’t mind. Give him here so I can say goodbye.”

 

David passes over the cute chubby-cheeked boy, rubbing his nose against Neal’s smaller nose and making silly sounds before letting him go. Emma gives him a shake of her head that makes a faint flush color the tips of his ears and neck.

 

“I should get going as well,” Regina says, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I have a meeting in twenty-five minutes that I am most certainly not looking forward to. Emma, would you like to walk with Henry, or shall I take him?”

 

Emma’s surprised by the question and turns to Regina. “He’s walking now?”

 

“He prefers it,” Regina says with a smile, glancing over to their son. “He believes he is too old for the bus. Driving is always an option, of course.”

 

Emma nods her head. “Well, it’s not like his school is actually far, so I get it.”

 

Henry clears his throat. “This  _he_ you guys are talking about is right here, you know.”

 

Regina and Emma share a laugh and smile at their son.

 

“Right. Okay. I can walk with him.” She turns to Snow, who is watching her and Regina with one of those smiles that mean something that Emma doesn’t really know. “We could talk while we walk to the school, yeah?” she asks her.

 

Snow gives a little jump, and then she nods quickly. “Yes, of course.”

 

“Perfect,” Regina says, standing up and then excusing herself to the restroom.

 

Emma watches her walk away and then turns back to the table, where everyone is watching her with these  _looks_ on their faces that make her wonder if she’s spilled her breakfast on her or something. “What?” Emma asks slowly, furrowing her brow.

 

David grins and takes Neal from Snow’s arms.

 

Snow busies herself with finishing her tea.

 

Henry focuses on getting his things together.

 

Emma eyes them all. “This is getting weird, you guys.”

 

“What? How in sync you and Regina have been this morning? I find it fascinating,” Snow says with a beaming smile that’s all warmth and hope.

 

“Huh? What? No.” Emma rubs at the back of her neck. “I meant the looks you all have been giving me today. What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Snow says, sipping her tea.

 

David gives her arm a squeeze when she frowns. “What your mother means is, it’s nice to see you and Regina working so well together.”

 

Emma swears something’s wrong with them, because she and Regina have been working well together for a lot longer than just this breakfast. Did she miss something?

 

But before Emma can say anything, Regina comes back to the table and is smiling at everyone. And Emma forgets about the weird feeling in her stomach that her parents and son had caused because it completely disappears when warmth fills her body from her head to toes from the way Regina looks at her when those glittering brown eyes turn to catch hers.

 

“I’ll see you when I take my lunch, correct?”

 

“Yes, of course,” she tells Regina. It’s not like she’s got anywhere else to be, or like she actually wants to miss out on a chance to spend time with Regina. “You’ll text me?”

 

“And have a repeat of last night? I think I’ll call you.”

 

Emma notices the eyebrow lifts on all three of the other people at the table, and apparently so does Regina because she scowls at them. Good, Emma thinks, because it wipes the looks right off their faces and makes them stop watching her and Regina with such apt attention.

 

“Works for me,” Emma responds and leans back in her chair and watches as Regina puts on her jacket.

 

“You make sure she gets you to school on time,” she says to Henry, a little smirk on her lips as her eyes flash towards Emma before she leans over and kisses the top of his head. “And have a good day. I’ll see you this afternoon, my love.”

 

“Thanks. I will. Bye, Mom,” Henry says around the straw in his mouth.

 

Regina takes Baby Neal from David and holds him up, smiling at him before she brings him in for a kiss. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, my little angel.”

 

Something inside Emma  _twists_ watching Regina with her brother, watching the way she smiles and her eyes twinkle and she looks at him like he’s the absolute cutest thing she’s ever seen – even Henry seems to notice it; he looks jealous of the attention, even after he’d just been on the receiving end of it.

 

Regina hands back the child and then clears her throat, rolling her eyes at the way both David and Snow grin at her. Her eyes move back to Emma, and Emma tries to force the smile back to her lips that had been there before. But it doesn’t work. She’s worst than Henry, she realizes, recognizing the jealousy that’s mixed with the awe she’d felt when she was watching Regina with the baby.

 

Regina’s eyebrows knit together, like she doesn’t understand Emma’s sudden shift. And she probably doesn’t. Hell, Emma doesn’t fully understand it either. (Except she kinda does.)

 

“I’ll call you,” Regina tells her again.

 

Emma nods. “Okay.”

 

Regina doesn’t leave right away, it’s as though she’s unable to with Emma still frowning at her. It’s not until Emma’s able to force a small smile that she finally does leave, and everyone at the table seems to notice how tense the moment had been. Emma huffs and gets up, looking away from all of them.

 

“I’ll meet you guys outside. I need some air.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable earlier,” Snow says as they walk to the school.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “You didn’t,” she half-lies, watching Henry walk a few feet ahead of them. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about snapping at you yesterday morning. I wanted to apologize.”

 

“Oh, honey, it’s all right,” Snow says in that voice that means she forgave Emma before Emma had even apologized the first time. 

 

“It’s not, though. You didn’t deserve that. I really appreciate you wanting to help me out, so I don’t want you to think I don’t need your help from time to time.” She glances towards Snow and then turns back to Henry, who's paying them absolutely no attention. (Emma’s pretty sure he’s pretending he doesn’t even know them. Teens are weird. It’s not like the whole town doesn’t know whose kid he is.)

 

“I can be a little overwhelming when I’m concerned about you, Emma,” Snow says in a way that makes Emma feel like her mother understands everything she hasn’t explained.

 

“But it means you care,” Emma tells her softly, because she understands, too. “I think I can learn to accept your help more often if you can be patient with me and remember that I’m used to doing things on my own.”

 

Snow smiles brightly and gives Emma a side-hug that’s tight and a little awkward because they’re still walking. “I think we just might be able to make that work.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“There are apples over there,” Regina tells Emma without looking up from the note she’s quickly jotting down in the middle of lunch so she doesn’t forget it.

 

Emma’s in the middle of chewing a bite of her cheeseburger, so she’s not really sure why Regina’s telling her about apples.

 

“For when you finish clogging your arteries with all that grease,” she explains, flicking her eyes up and smirking when Emma rolls her eyes.

 

Emma purposely ignores her, but when she leaves, she grabs an apple and takes a loud, crunching bite after wiping it on her sleeve and winking at Regina before leaving. (Wiping it on her sleeve kinda defeats the purpose since her shirt’s not actually clean, but who really cares?)

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s Saturday night, family dinner is over, Henry’s babysitting Neal (because Snow pays him to do basically nothing since both she and David are home and Snow doesn’t really know how to ignore the sound of her child crying or let Henry do what he’s there for), and Emma and Regina are in Regina’s study.

 

It’s Saturday night, and Emma’s freaking the fuck out because she doesn’t know how to get Regina to bring her upstairs for the reason she’s there.

 

It’s Saturday night.

 

She pulls out her cell phone to check the time – 10:18. How much longer are they going to sit in the study?

 

“Am I keeping you from something?” Regina asks, looking over the top of the book she’s holding but probably not reading since she hasn’t turned the page in nine minutes.

 

Emma shakes her head. “You mean besides sleep? Nope, not at all.”

 

Regina dampens her lips and makes a small noise in her throat. “If you’re ready to go to sleep, you could just say something.”

 

Emma huffs out a breath, bouncing her leg. “Is that what you’re waiting for? Because I’m pretty sure you’re not even reading that book – which means you’re just sitting here for no reason.”

 

Regina doesn’t even bother denying it as she closes the book. “Emma, you’re in my house. We’ve already discussed what we both want. If we’re to introduce something new into our - -” she licks her lips and looks thoughtful before choosing her next words, “- - relationship, I need to know that you’re comfortable with not only what we will be doing, but comfortable enough to let me know when you want it.”

 

Emma wishes there was something she could do with her hands, something she could pick at or something. She feels awkward, and she hates feeling awkward. She gets up and decides to just move things along, forget about how every voice inside her head is telling her this is somehow a trap. She looks into Regina’s eyes and knows it’s not, knows Regina honestly wants her there.

 

“Let’s go to bed,” Emma says, and Regina gives her a small smile and then gets up from the loveseat.

 

“I expected something a little more...” She waves her hand in front of her, but doesn’t finish her thought.

 

Emma gets it, though, because sometimes Regina doesn’t really need to explain for Emma to understand. “Take me to bed, Madam Mayor,” Emma says in a low voice as they walk up the stairs. She’s right behind Regina, so when the brunette stops and looks over her shoulder while on the first landing, Emma bumps into her with an  _oof_.

 

“Yes,” Regina says with mirth in her eyes, “that’s more like what I was expecting from you.”

 

Emma swallows when she realizes Regina’s eyes have dropped down to her mouth, but before she can comment on it, Regina’s smirking at her and walking up the rest of the stairs. (Emma doesn’t watch the sway of her hips as she walks up the stairs. Nope, not at all.)

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s never been in Regina’s bathroom before, so it only makes sense that she looks around it after she’s finished with her shower. (She’d taken one before going to her parents’, but the smell of coconut when Regina left the bathroom after her own shower had been too enticing for her to turn down the option of getting a chance to bathe with Regina’s body wash.)

 

Emma’s bathroom at her own house is nothing like Regina’s. Regina’s bathroom has all the class and elegance of its primary user, but there are also warm touches and small things around the nicely-sized room that you wouldn’t find in a catalog that shares expensive decorating tips. Emma’s had a few good apartments before Henry brought her to Storybrooke, but none of them had water pressure like Regina’s shower. Emma doesn’t know how she ever leaves the shower with how amazing the water had felt against her skin. It was absolutely heavenly.

 

The one thing Emma’s bathroom has in common with Regina’s is all the hair products, and Emma’s a little fascinated to discover what Regina uses in her hair for some reason. She’s still wrapped up in a towel, walking around the bathroom on bare feet, and she’s reading labels with raised eyebrows.

 

That is until Regina knocks on the door and Emma makes four bottles fall down as she turns around quickly, holding her towel to her chest. “Uh. It’s unlocked,” she says, and then wonders why her first instinct is to let Regina in instead of telling her she’s not dress.

 

“O-kay,” Regina says slowly, perhaps just as confused as Emma is. “I didn’t intend to come in. I only wanted to know if you were all right in there.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Not making a mess or anything like that,” she says, and then smashes her palm against her face.

 

“Emma,” Regina says slowly, warningly, dangerously...in a way that's kinda hot. (Emma’s going to bang her head against a wall any minute now. It's so not the time to be thinking about Regina like that, not before sleeping in the same bed with her. Definitely not.)

 

“I’ll be out in a minute. Let me just, uh... Give me a minute.”

 

A minute turns into about five. When she leaves the bathroom, it’s already dark in the bedroom. Regina’s in bed, under the covers, and Emma’s not really sure what to do with her stuff. She looks around, biting the corner of her lip.

 

“Turn off the bathroom light, Emma,” Regina says, her voice tight.

 

Emma quickly flicks the switch off and then fully enters the bedroom. She puts her things on the floor by the armchair, and then thinks twice about it. She picks her pile of clothes and her bag up from the floor and puts them in the chair.

 

“Stop fidgeting.”

 

Emma frowns at the back of Regina’s head. “I’m not fidgeting. You’re not even looking this way.”

 

Regina slowly rolls over so that she’s laying on her bed and looking at Emma. “And yet I know that you’re fidgeting.”

 

“I bought pajamas for you, you know,” Emma says as she moves over to the bed. “Brand new.”

 

Regina’s mouth twitches as she pulls the cover back for Emma. “Am I supposed to say thank you?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “You could tell me they look good on me, though.”

 

Regina raises her eyebrow, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “If you have to ask for the compliment, do you really want it?”

 

Emma considers Regina’s question as she gets in the bed – the bed that is the perfect mix between firm and soft and smells like Regina. “Maybe not,” she decides. “Your bed is really comfortable.”

 

“I know.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and slides over to Regina. “The proper response is thank you.”

 

Regina hums, leaning in closer to Emma, so close that she can practically taste the mint of her breath. “Thank you,” she whispers.

 

“Much better.” Emma grins. “So... How are we going to do this? Can I...?” Emma motions with her hand.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the language you seem to believe you’re communicating in with your hands.”

 

Emma scoots closer. “Fine. Move over here,” she tells her instead, curling up on her side.

 

“Ask nicely,” Regina prompts with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

 

Emma groans. “Are you going to make this difficult?”

 

“No, not at all. I only requested that you ask me nicely instead of ordering me around my own bed.”

 

“Can’t have me taking over your job, right?”

 

Regina actually chuckles in response. “Is that a reference to the other night’s inappropriate question? I’m sorry.  _One_ of that night’s inappropriate questions?”

 

Emma shrugs one of her shoulders. She’s really not in any rush to get to sleep or even make Regina move over. She’s enjoying simply being in the same bed as her, and Regina’s in a good mood, which Emma is a big fan of.

 

“That filter of yours needn’t be turned off while you are actually in my bed, Emma. Is that clear?”

 

Emma raises a questioning eyebrow. “Are you afraid of what I might say?”

 

Regina looks away for a brief moment, something flashing in her eyes. But when she turns back to Emma, moves over closer to her and then lies down on her stomach, the look is gone. She doesn’t answer the question, either, but Emma doesn’t ask again.

 

Emma changes positions in the bed as well, decides to lie on her back. She can feel her heart beating a little faster than normal as she swallows and looks over to Regina, Regina who is simply watching her with curious eyes. There’s a lot that Regina’s not saying, Emma can tell. She gets this look when she’s thinking too hard, thinking too much. Emma doesn’t ask her what’s on her mind, though. She just looks at her and lets them get used to being in the same bed, get used to the feeling of once again being close to each other in this way.

 

Regina is the first one to close the minimal distance between them. She props her head up on one hand and then brings the other to Emma’s hair. It’s loose and curly, and Regina’s fingers slide through it from root to tip.

 

Emma’s heartbeat slows down, as if her body is realizing there’s no reason for her to be nervous. Regina’s eyes are softer than they ever are when they’re in bed together, and her touch is light and gentle. Emma can relax and enjoy this moment. She doesn’t need to wait for something to go wrong. She can just breathe. So she does.

 

She exhales softly and lifts her own hand and tentatively runs her fingers through Regina’s soft hair, watches Regina’s face as she does it a second time. Regina’s the one who looks nervous – and it would worry Emma if she hadn’t seen this look before in the Underworld. Regina’s not going to pull away or make Emma stop, but Emma thinks Regina’s actually worried Emma might.

 

Emma doesn’t really think before she acts, and it’s probably one of her biggest flaws, but she’d probably do what she does next even if she had taken the time to think about it first.

 

Emma slowly leans forward and moves closer to Regina. Regina’s hand pauses in mid-air, and her brow furrows with confusion. Emma smiles and drags her nails along Regina’s scalp, pushes dark hair behind her ear. She leans up on her elbow so that she can press her lips to Regina’s skin, kisses her temple and listens to Regina’s shaky breath as she exhales. Emma can feel her breath, like a warm breeze. It makes Emma blush as she slowly pulls away, lays her head back down on the pillow, and closes her eyes.

 

Emma remembers the kiss on her forehead the first night they slept together, and she’s been thinking about the kiss she thinks she remembers Regina placing on her cheek. Emma’s been wondering what they mean, but instead of figuring out a clear answer, all she’s come with is that they mean  _something_. And whatever that something is, Emma wants Regina to have it too. She wants Regina to have something that she can think about and get the same warm sensation Emma gets when she thinks about Regina’s lips lingering on her skin and her fingers on her scalp.

 

Emma can feel Regina moving in the bed, and then the weight of her head is on Emma’s chest.

 

Emma feels her heart beating faster again, but she’s not nervous. The moment just feels too good, and her emotions are starting to overwhelm her. She cracks her eyes open and looks down at Regina’s head on her chest, Regina’s eyes closed, her face relaxed, and Emma knows that Regina feels that safe feeling with her, too. She hadn’t been sure before, but now she is.

 

Emma smiles softly and brings her hand up to Regina’s hair and lightly combs her fingers through it. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t question anything, she just runs her fingers through Regina’s hair and listens to the sounds of her quiet breaths.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You’re not sleeping,” Emma whispers when Regina takes her hand into her own.

 

“No filter this late at night, but you still have your outstanding observation skills,” Regina says, and Emma’s chest vibrates beneath her head with the small chuckle that she makes.

 

“I thought the point of this was so that we could sleep,” Emma whispers, playing with Regina’s fingers.

 

“Then why are you awake?”

 

“I don’t want to sleep.”

 

Regina lifts her head and turns so she’s facing Emma. “Neither do I,” she admits softly.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Tell me something,” Emma prompts.

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Come on. Please.”

 

“What?”

 

Emma doesn’t know, doesn’t care. She just wants more of Regina. Regina’s basically laying on top of her, has been trailing her fingers across Emma’s neck and what’s visible of her chest, and Emma can’t help wanting  _more_.

 

“Anything you want.”

 

“And what if I don’t want to tell you anything.”

 

Emma twists her lips together, but she doesn’t stop stroking her fingers up and down Regina’s back. Her skin is warm, and Emma thinks it’s her favorite part of Regina’s body that she’s been allowed to touch.

 

“I’ve never spent all night in bed with anyone I wasn’t dating,” Emma shares instead. She doesn’t know why she tells Regina. (That’s a lie, she knows. She knows why she tells her. She  _needs_ Regina to understand what this all means to her. But she doesn’t want to admit to herself why that is.)

 

Regina’s head lifts, and Emma opens her eyes to look at her. Regina’s searching her eyes for something, but Emma doesn’t know what she’s looking for. For some reason, though, Emma’s okay with her finding just about anything.

 

“Why not?” Regina asks after a long while, laying her head back down on Emma’s breast.

 

Emma shrugs a bit. “It’s too intimate.”

 

“But you’re here with me right now.”

 

Emma smiles and dances her fingers up Regina’s spine. It makes her shiver every now and then, and each time that happens, Regina moves and buries her head in Emma’s neck – which Emma likes, and really wishes Regina would just stay there and stop moving away after a few seconds.

 

“Why are you here with me?” Regina asks when Emma never responds to what she says. It sounds like it took a lot for her to get the question out, so Emma doesn’t hesitate when she answers.

 

“Because I like it here with you.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Will you tell me what happened with Robin?”

 

They have moved around the bed and Emma's now on Regina’s side.They’re spooning, and Emma’s basically just been breathing in the smell of coconut and trying not to sneeze because Regina’s hair is tickling her nose. Regina stiffens at the sound of Robin’s name, so Emma squeezes the hand whose fingers are tangled with her own.

 

“Nothing happened.”

 

Emma sighs. “Okay.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“There’s a cabin in the woods that belonged to me,” Regina says softly, and her voice surprises Emma. It’s been quiet for so long that she had thought Regina had fallen asleep.

 

Emma brushes her thumb over the back of Regina’s hand to let her know she’s listening.

 

“When we returned from the Underworld, I decided to sign it over to Robin so that he had a place to live with his children. Granny’s is no place for a baby, and neither is a tent.”

 

Emma pulls Regina’s hand over to her mouth and presses a gentle kiss to her skin because it feels like the right thing to do, like something she  _can_ do now. Regina’s fingers tighten around Emma’s.

 

“I offered to let him stay here once before, but he had declined my offer. I don’t regret asking him if he wanted to move in, but I’m glad he didn’t. I realized something that would have made him living here more than a tad awkward.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

Regina breathes out softly. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with him. Our time together taught me that I could be loved by someone again, but...” Regina breathes out another long breath.

 

Emma waits for her to finish, but she never does. She goes silent and rolls around in Emma’s arms, and when Emma guides Regina’s head into the crook of her neck, she doesn’t move away, she stays there until they finally both fall asleep.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Regina’s elbow against her side wakes Emma up. Her eyes widen as a surprising rush of pain moves through her body.  _Ow_. Regina doesn’t move much in her sleep, but apparently when she’s waking up she’s fitful. Emma tightens her arm around her instead of moving away, holds her still and closes her eyes back. Despite having spent most of the night awake, Emma feels pretty good and has slept better than she has the last few days.

 

Regina’s hips wiggle against Emma, and the blonde slides her hand over Regina’s side and to her hip. The satin of her camisole and shorts set feels expensive and incredible beneath Emma’s hand, but the warm skin beneath her clothes feels even better. At some point during the night, Emma’s pants came off. She’s not sure when or how, but it’s honestly not the first time she’s woken up missing her clothes with no recollection of taking them off. She figures she was hot, because Regina’s practically a furnace and it’s already warm inside the bedroom. She could have subconsciously just wanted to feel Regina’s legs tangled with hers, she thinks, because Regina had actually left much of her skin visible and unclothed like Emma had wanted.

 

Emma’s not ready for Regina to wake up and find Emma in her underwear and pajama top that’s only buttoned over her breasts. (That was Regina, Emma’s pretty sure. Regina was handsy when she was basically asleep but still trying to stay awake, and Emma hadn’t known what to do about a Regina who wanted to lay her head on Emma’s stomach while her finger ran over the skin above the waist of Emma’s pants.)

 

Emma’s not ready for the day to start and the night to end.

 

She’s not ready for whatever this thing is to end.

 

So Emma closes her eyes and hopes and hopes and hopes for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: soft goodnight kisses exchanged on lamp-lit doorsteps
> 
> (And Christmas in March, because that's a thing.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, you're all so lovely and incredible and I just want to send out a million thank yous to everyone who's reading/leaving kudos/leaving comments/spreading the word about the fic. It really motivates me to write more/faster. It's only been a week and I've already written about 46k words. It's all the enthusiasm from you all that's responsible for that. 
> 
> Secondly, a HUGE thanks to those of you have been telling people about my fic and have recommended it to others. I appreciate it so, so, so much. The reaction to this story continues to surprise me, and I'm so happy you've all enjoyed it so far. 
> 
> Now, on with the next chapter...

**soft goodnight kisses exchanged on lamp-lit doorsteps**

 

Emma hadn’t been able to fall asleep like she had wanted to. Instead, Emma watched Regina sleep as sunlight streaked across her relaxed face from where it slipped between the curtains. Emma wasn’t much of a heavy-thinker before her morning coffee, so she hadn’t had much on her mind as she laid beside Regina.

 

It’s been mostly silent inside the room, but it makes it easier to hear the soft blow of Regina’s breaths. They’re both on their stomachs now, and Emma’s head is propped up on her hand, her arm bent, her second hand reaching out to rub small circles below Regina’s hairline at the nape of her neck whenever Regina starts to stir. Regina makes this noise in her throat when Emma does it, this mewling sound that Emma can’t help but smile at, and then relaxes back against her pillow. To be able to do that, to coax Regina back to sleep, is an incredible feeling. Just the touch of her fingers gently rubbing Regina’s skin and she’s soothed. Emma does that. Emma. She didn’t even know she had it in her, that ability to comfort someone in such a way.

 

The only time Emma gets up from the bed is to use the bathroom, and when she comes back, Regina’s moved her head onto Emma’s pillow and is taking up the spot that’s most likely still warm from Emma’s body heat. Emma grins as she stands at the other side of the bed, working her fingers through her blonde hair just enough to put it up into a ponytail. It’s amazing how small Regina looks in the bed, and yet she’s managed to take up the whole thing, her body stretched across it like a cat. Emma’s never really liked cats all that much, prefers dogs if she really has to pick; she’s never had to share her space with either, but puppies are cute until they start destroying things. Regina, however, Emma has come to realize, she likes quite a lot – especially when Regina is all soft sighs and light fingers against her skin in the middle of the night.

 

Emma’s careful when she gets back into the bed, laying on the opposite side from the one she had been on before. Since Regina’s legs are still on that side of the bed, Emma slowly, so very slowly, tries moving her over just enough so she can curl up on her side beside Regina. Regina, despite how careful Emma has been, begins to wake up just enough to roll over almost completely back to her original side of the bed, the side Emma has just lay down on, meaning Regina’s once again spooning Emma, and Emma’s mostly on the edge of the bed. Emma doesn’t even consider climbing over to her now-empty side, doesn’t choose space over the warmth that spills from Regina’s body. Emma wraps her arm around Regina’s waist and holds on to her, her chin resting atop Regina’s head, dark, sleep-mussed hair tickling her skin.

 

And it’s really nice.

 

Emma might even fall back asleep because of how easy it is to just follow the inhalations and exhalations of Regina’s breath and be lulled into a peaceful slumber. It’s easy to forget about what exists outside of the four walls of Regina’s bedroom.

 

Throughout the night Emma had found herself with a mind full of questions, some she had asked, most she had kept to herself. In the Underworld, when Regina ran her fingers through Emma’s hair and let Emma sleep in her arms, it had felt like it was mostly about her. Regina had been giving to Emma something she hadn’t known she could have, something Regina had somehow known she needed and was – surprisingly – more than willing to be the one to give to Emma. But last night, Emma had wanted nothing more than to give Regina the sense of safety and warmth and comfort that the brunette had given her, and Regina had done more than simply allowed her to. Regina had sunk into it completely, gradually, but fully.

 

In the end, Regina had let all her walls down, put down all her shields, and she had let Emma _see_ her, see the parts of her that were thirsty for something Regina hadn’t allowed herself to have, or perhaps hadn’t believed she could have. Regina had let Emma see the longing in her eyes and feel the way her body practically _melted_ against Emma, wrapped around Emma like Regina knew she could trust Emma with the most fragile parts of herself.

 

Emma knows how big of a deal that is for Regina, and she’s going to make sure she doesn’t make Regina regret it. She wonders how many people have actually been given the opportunity to be where she currently finds herself – both physically and in a figurative sense. The queen Regina had been in the Enchanted Forest doesn’t seem like the kind of person who had let someone hold her through the night, and Emma knows Graham had not even stayed over when it was he who Regina let into her bed. Maybe Robin, Emma considers with a mental grimace, but she’s having a hard time believing it. He might have been her soulmate or whatever, but there was something about the way Regina’s fingers curled in Emma's shirt, around her arms, that spoke of far too much desperation for her to have had that with Robin.

 

Emma recognizes something in Regina that she herself has felt, a hunger for affection, a hunger that had not been fed properly in a long time. Emma’s convinced that Regina hasn’t let anyone touch her the way she had let Emma, touch her with the purpose of making her feel safe. It’s more intimate than sex – at least for Emma, which is why she hadn’t allow it with others before, not with people she didn’t want to feel vulnerable around, not with people she didn’t trust to not judge her when she let show how starved for this particular brand of affection she was.

 

Regina might have given him her body – and apparently her heart – but he hadn’t been given Regina’s fragile and desperation, hadn’t been given something Regina had probably been taught made her weak, just like Emma had taught herself the very same thing from a young age. He hadn’t gotten that – but Emma had. And Emma wonders if it’s because Regina knows Emma sees all sides of her, the good, the bad, the parts of her that have hurt far too much for one lifetime. Emma sees all of it, but she doesn’t see her as anything but strong. Regina has fought through so much ugly and bad, and it takes so much strength to make it out of a battle like the one Regina fought, especially when you see your biggest enemy when you look into a mirror. Emma gets that, and maybe that’s why Regina is trusting her with so much of herself.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The arch of Regina’s foot rubs against the back of her leg, starting close to her ankle and making it almost up to the middle of her tight calf. That’s what Emma wakes up to, the slow drag of Regina’s foot on her leg, making the skin tingle pleasantly and the barely-awake blonde groan into the crook of Regina’s neck. She had known she would probably fall asleep again, but she did not think this was how she would wake up. She had been sure that what had transpired between them at night would only be that, something that was okay when it was dark and they were sleepy, but not something for when the sun was spilling into the room.

 

“You’re no longer wearing pants, Emma,” Regina says to her, and her voice is raspy and close to Emma’s ear. (Absolute torture, if you ask Emma. It’s too early for her to have to try to pretend she has any idea how to handle her attraction to Regina, too early to pretend like the sound of Regina’s voice isn’t enough to make her pulse race.)

 

“And you’re not kicking me out of bed because of it,” Emma mumbles against the side of Regina’s neck. Her lips brush warm skin a few times as she speaks, but Regina doesn’t pull away from the unintentional – but not unpleasant – contact Emma makes.

 

Regina merely makes a noise in her throat to acknowledge what Emma says. Her foot slowly slides down Emma’s leg, all the way down to Emma’s own foot, and then she lets it rest there, their limbs tangled together. Emma breathes out softly and slides her arm under the blanket that covers their bodies. She’s testing boundaries when she lets her fingers play along the hem of Regina’s shirt, wondering how much is too much. Waking up and finding Regina in no rush to get rid of Emma, discovering that Regina’s still all right with their touching, has made Emma’s fingers itch with the desire to feel Regina’s warm skin on them.

 

The vibration of a quiet chuckle in Regina’s chest makes Emma lift her head to look at her. Regina’s already looking at Emma, amused eyes dancing across her face. “What?”

 

Regina shakes her head. “I was just wondering if this is going to become some sort of routine.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow climbs towards her hairline. “Huh?”

 

Regina’s hip moves, raises a little. “I didn’t expect you to be so shy,” Regina admits.

 

Emma’s eyes start to narrow, believing Regina to be making fun of her. But then Regina’s eyes soften and she knows she isn’t.   

 

“I only meant, you’re more hesitant than I expected you would be.” Regina brings her hand up and pulls a few of Emma’s curls behind her ear. It’s a small touch, but it makes Emma’s chest glow with golden heat.

 

“Yeah, well.” Emma looks away from Regina, lays her head back down next to her bedmate’s shoulder. “I don’t want to touch you somewhere you don’t want me to.”

 

Regina’s fingers freeze in Emma’s hair for a brief moment, and Emma can hear her swallow. Then, Regina starts running her fingers through Emma’s hair. “Where is it you–” Regina clears her throat. “Where is it you want to touch me?”

 

Emma’s heart is beating harshly, and she’s sure Regina can feel it, or maybe hear it. “Where do you want to be touched?” Emma asks instead of answering the question.

 

“I do believe I asked you first.”

 

Emma snorts. “Yeah, and we’re not twelve, so ‘I asked you first’ isn’t going to work.”

 

“Very well,” Regina says, starting to pull away from Emma.

 

Emma squeezes her hip and holds her close. “Please don’t do that,” she says with a sigh.

 

Regina stills immediately. “Why can’t you just answer the question?” she asks, and she sounds a little distressed, but not like she’s seriously upset with Emma.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulder a little. Regina doesn’t push Emma for an answer, chooses instead to pull the elastic out of Emma’s hair and lets loose what hadn’t already escaped her ponytail. Regina prefers it that way, Emma thinks, likes being able to sink her fingers in and get at her scalp. Emma makes a mental note of the preference as a low moan escapes her throat when Regina starts working her magic.

 

“What if you don’t like my answer?” Emma asks after a few silent moments.

 

“Will it be an honest answer?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I will be okay with whatever you say.”

 

Emma tries to lift her head, but Regina doesn’t allow it. Her palm presses Emma’s head back down and her fingers continue to slide through Emma’s curls gently, being careful where the hair has tangled. And Emma can’t really complain about it because it feels incredible, even if she knows the reason Regina won’t let her move is because she rather have this conversation without Emma looking at her – or without having to look at Emma, perhaps.

 

“We need to talk about boundaries.”

 

Regina makes a sound that’s almost a laugh as she says, “You’re incapable of just enjoying the quiet time we have left together this morning, aren’t you?”

 

“I thought you might appreciate that, actually. The boundaries, I mean."

 

“I do,” Regina admits with a smile Emma can hear in her voice, “perhaps even more than you know. It’s very thoughtful of you. However, I don’t normally spend my mornings in bed and I would prefer not spending this time having a conversation that could ruin something I’m enjoying a great deal.”

 

“Okay,” Emma agrees. “I guess I get that.”

 

And Emma’s already decided to just lay there and enjoy like Regina said, but then Regina sighs and stops moving her fingers against her scalp.

 

“Tell me what you’re not okay with, Emma. What is it that you’re uncomfortable with?”

 

Emma doesn’t try to turn to look at Regina, but this time it’s because she doesn’t want Regina to see the look on her face. She’s certain that Regina can read her like an open book, and there’s too much to be read, too much to be revealed. Because Emma’s not uncomfortable with anything, not with Regina. She doesn’t know how Regina will react to discovering exactly how much Emma is willing to let happen between them, how much she would be okay with.

 

Emma doesn’t know how to answer the question. She considers making something up, lying and giving Regina a list of things so she can hide how very much she wants to have with Regina. But she won’t do that. She can’t. What they have feels like something that can only exist if they’re honest with each other, if they continue to trust each other with the truth. Regina deserves her honesty. But the truth in this case is something Emma can’t put into words.

 

“Emma?” Regina asks, and she sounds more patient than she normally is.

 

Emma does lift her head this time, but it’s only enough to bring her lips to Regina’s temple. It’s where she had kissed her last night, where her lips had pressed above Regina’s pulse. She kisses her there again, this time letting her lips linger, holding her breath, heart pounding in her chest, hand still on Regina’s hip where she hasn’t moved it. She kisses her and doesn’t speak, and she hopes that Regina understands, hopes that she won’t make her put her feelings into words. She hopes it’s enough – hopes _she’s_ enough.

 

Emma’s heart clenches tightly in her chest when she feels something warm and wet on her nose. A tear, she realizes, but it’s not hers. Everything in Emma hurts, because she doesn’t know what she did, but she knows she’s the reason for the tear that slides down from the corner of Regina’s eye.

 

“I’m sorry,” she rushes out, pulling away quickly so she can give Regina space. She feels terrible, feels like she’s fucked up already after just telling herself earlier in the morning that she would be careful and handle the gift that Regina had given her the night before with care. “Fuck, Regina, I didn’t mean–”

 

Regina quiets her, puts a hand over Emma’s mouth and holds her in place with the other on Emma’s arm so she can’t move away. “Stop,” she says, and there are a few more tears leaking out of her eyes, breaking Emma’s heart and everything else inside her. When Emma stops trying to pull away, Regina lets her go and wipes her cheeks like the tears have offended her. “I’m not normally this emotional,” Regina says with a forced laugh that does nothing to make Emma feel any less like she screwed everything up, "especially not when I'm around other people."

 

“Do you want me to go?” Emma asks, prepared to leave – not run, but go if it’s what Regina wants. “I can go home and we can–”

 

“Emma, stop,” Regina demands, and Emma shuts up and chews on the inside of her cheek. Regina breathes out a long breath and then closes her eyes. “Stay.”

 

“I’m not a dog, you know,” Emma mumbles as she lays back down properly with her head on Regina’s shoulder.

 

Regina laughs a genuine laugh. “Believe me, I know you aren’t. You would be a terribly trained one if you were.”

 

The pressure in Emma’s chest releases, and Emma smiles softly and focuses on the pattern of Regina’s breathing.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You’re not wearing any pants,” Regina says when Emma gets out of the bed.

 

Emma looks down to her half-buttoned, plaid pajama top that mostly covers her black boyshorts, and then back up to the woman whose eyes are on her bare legs. “Yeah,” she says slowly, “we sorta discovered that earlier. Remember?”

 

Regina clears her throat and looks away from Emma. An almost unnoticeable blush spreads across her cheeks. “Yes, of course, but before you were still under the covers and I was unable to _see_ that you are not wearing your pants.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders a little and walks around the bed to the window to open the curtains and let the sunlight fully enter the bedroom. “It’s not the first time you’ve seen me without pants, probably won’t be the last if this turns out to be more than a one-time thing.” (God, she really hopes it does.)

 

“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to sleep in your underwear when sharing a bed with someone you aren’t romantically involved with, dear?”

 

Emma quirks an eyebrow at Regina, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s _inappropriate_ to be looking at my ass right now when we’re not romantically involved?” she asks, smirking when Regina’s eyes quickly avert. “You’re the one checking me out right now and you’re asking about what’s appropriate.”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t _checking you out_ ,” Regina tells her with an eye roll before she gets out of bed, focusing extra hard on not looking at Emma.

 

“Liar.”

 

Emma turns around fully and leans in front of the window, her hands resting on her hips. Regina in her midnight blue pajama set is a sight Emma hadn’t been able to properly take in the night before. So as Regina stretches with her back to Emma, Emma runs her eyes Regina’s petite body, dragging her tongue over her lips. Regina’s hips twist, first to the left as she stretches one arm above and over her head, and then to the right when she does the other, and Emma’s eyes drop down to watch the movement, unable to stop herself. It’s not her fault Regina’s body demands to be looked at, all tantalizing curves and gentle slopes.

 

“You really need to work on being more subtle,” she hears Regina say, and Emma’s eyes shoot up to where Regina is smirking over her shoulder.

 

Emma rolls her eyes, biting back a grin. “You’re one to talk.”

 

Regina turns away from Emma and starts making the bed. Emma goes to help her and wonders how they got here, got to Emma being in Regina’s bedroom, making her bed with her.

 

“You could put your pants on now, you know,” Regina tells her as they work together to fix the sheets and blanket.

 

“For what? I’m just going to take them off when I go shower.” Emma glances up after pulling the sheet nice and tight. “If it seriously bothers you...”

 

Regina flicks her eyes up to Emma’s, then she looks down below Emma’s waist and shakes her head. “It doesn’t,” she says simply.

 

Emma nods and then asks, “So... Does that mean I can just skip the pants next time?”

 

Warm brown eyes lighten up a fraction when she rolls them like it absolutely pains her to agree to something Emma wants. “If you must.”

 

Emma’s about to put her pillow in its proper place, but instead she throws it at Regina, whose eyes widen in surprise. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t like what you see.” Emma laughs. “I totally don’t mind you checking me out.” Regina tosses the pillow back, roughly. “Ow.”

 

“For the last time, I was _not_ checking you out, Emma.”

 

“Sure you weren’t,” Emma says under her breath, grinning. “Not like you find me attractive or anything. Nope, not at all.”

 

“Emma,” Regina warns.

 

Emma holds her hands up and chuckles. “For the record, I find you attractive, too.”

 

Regina scoffs. “As if I wasn’t aware of that already.” Regina sweeps her hand across the bed to get rid of visible wrinkles. “I am definitely an improvement from the people you have previously appeared to find physically appealing.”

 

“Aren’t you modest?” Emma jokes, pulling out her clean clothes from her bag. Regina smirks a little as she looks back at Emma. “Are you seriously going to deny it, though?”

 

Regina, whose moving towards the closet, raises her brow. “Deny what?”

 

“Seriously, Regina? You know what. That you find me attractive.”

 

Regina pauses, gives Emma a once-over, and then gets a wicked twinkle in her eye as she says, “You’re not terrible to look at.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Emma says, but she’s grinning, and Regina laughs in response, and it’s kinda perfect.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

While Regina showers, Emma heads down to the kitchen to put on some coffee. Making coffee turns into making breakfast, and soon Emma has eggs and bread for toast laid out on the counter as she texts her mom to confirm they’re still having lunch at the apartment when it’s time to pick Henry up – which confuses her mother since Regina’s supposed to be picking Henry up; Emma’s just supposed to be going over for lunch. Coming up with a good lie is what takes her attention away from the omelet she’s making, which is how she messes up breakfast in less than a minute.

 

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting into something, can I?” she hears, and her phone falls out of her hand as she looks over to the stove and then the toaster. “Did you have to wait until I got in the shower to try to burn my house down?”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Emma says, frowning at the mess she’s made of the breakfast. “The house would be fine. It’s just a little burnt toast and overcooked eggs.”

 

Regina swats Emma out of the way and turns off the stove. “I would have made you breakfast if you asked, Emma.”

 

Emma sighs and pulls the rack out of the toaster oven as Regina brings the pan to the garbage to get rid of the eggs. “Yeah, well maybe I wanted to make _you_ breakfast. I’m not completely incapable of doing stuff for myself, you know.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows knit together as she drops the empty pan in the sink. “I didn’t say you were.”

 

“You’re acting like it.” Emma burns her finger on the hot metal. She hisses and curses under her breath. “This was a terrible idea.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and takes Emma’s hand into her own, squeezing around Emma’s wrist when she tries to pull away because it’s impossible being angry when Regina’s touching her. “You’re fine,” Regina says after inspecting her fingers. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she mocks, smirking at Emma.

 

“Oh, what–”

 

Emma’s words die on her tongue. Her breath falters. Her heart skips at least two beats. Emma forgets how to blink.

 

Regina brushes her lips across Emma’s fingers slowly, and everything else stops for that moment. Nothing else in the world matters. Nothing exists. It’s just Regina’s lips on Emma’s fingers, lightly stroking the tips that had been burning from the toaster oven rack.

 

“There,” Regina says softly, stroking the side of Emma’s hand with her thumb, “all better.”

 

“Uh.” Emma’s eyes flick up to Regina’s, away from the fingers that she swears are glowing with... _something._ “Uh,” she says again, because apparently her brain still doesn’t know how to work.

 

Regina drops Emma’s hand and straightens up, something flashing across her face that Emma doesn’t understand. _Ugh._ That means Regina putting up a wall, and Emma wants to pound at it and tell her to put it back down.

 

“Thanks,” she finally says, her hand awkwardly hanging between them.

 

Regina gives her a slight nod and then moves to the toaster oven. “You should go upstairs and get ready. Despite how much you seem to enjoy walking around my house half-dressed, our son does live here as well and doesn’t always announce that he is on his way home before arriving.”

 

Emma finally drops her hand and shakes her head clear. She reaches past Regina for her phone. “He’s still at Snow’s, still sleeping. I just asked about him.”

 

Regina’s shoulders sag a little when she exhales. “Either way, you should get dressed sooner rather than later.”

 

“Right.” Emma leans against the counter. “Let me just finish this text message and I’ll get out of your way.”

 

Regina throws away the burnt toast – most of it, at least. Emma notices that she breaks off a piece of one slice and, after brushing her fingers across it, takes a bite. Emma smiles, because whether Regina knows she’s seen her or not, it means something. That’s the breakfast Emma was making for her. It’s the breakfast she burnt, but still something Emma had been making for Regina, and Regina actually ate some of her burnt breakfast when she could have just thrown the whole thing away.

 

Maybe Emma’s making a big deal out of nothing, but it feels like _something._

 

“That phone is the reason you almost started a fire in my kitchen. I’m tempted to take it from you and not give it back until we leave,” Regina says, walking back over with the empty rack.

 

Emma raises her eyebrow, her eyes on the phone screen. “I would have hardly started a fire. And I don’t take well to being punished.”

 

Regina merely hums as she brushes past Emma.

 

Emma sends a quick message to Snow to let her know she has to go, and then she puts her phone on vibrate and slides it across the counter. “But, here. It’s all yours.”

 

Regina looks down at the device after pulling a mixing bowl down, raising her eyebrow. “I was only joking, dear. You may keep your phone.”

 

“Don’t need it. I know the kid’s all right. My parents know I’m all right. I’m sure my brother is doing just fine with three people with him.” Emma shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter. “The only other person I care about enough to worry about this early in the morning is right here next to me,” she says, looking into Regina’s eyes as she moves closer to her. “I don’t need it.”

 

A hesitant smile starts making an appearance on Regina’s lips as she follows Emma’s movements, eyes not leaving the blonde’s as Emma moves so she’s standing behind Regina. Regina’s head tilts back, and Emma grins at her before slowly wrapping her arms around Regina’s waist. Regina’s lashes flutter and shield the questioning in brown eyes that Emma had picked up before Regina started looking away from her.

 

“Is this all right?” Emma questions, hoping her rapidly beating heart can’t be felt against Regina’s shoulder blade.

 

Regina leans back against Emma and nods her head. “For a moment, yes. Just for a moment.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“And _this_ is why I told you to go get ready while I cooked us breakfast,” Regina’s saying as Emma rushes to get her jeans on. “If you had just listened to me–”

 

“Do you think yelling makes me move any faster? Or do you just enjoy the sound of your voice or something? Because, seriously, these pants aren’t going to get on me any faster because you want to make a point about how right you were.”

 

Regina huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve had three hours, Emma. Three whole hours to get ready.”

 

“I know how to get to my parents’ place. You could just leave me if you’re going to stay mad at me.”

 

Regina looks at Emma like she’s made a good point. “For once, you’ve given me a good idea.”

 

And then, just like that, Regina poofs away. _Poofs._ “Over-dramatic much,” Emma says to the empty room.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Snow jumps with her hand on her chest. “Oh, goodness. Would someone like to explain to me why people are magically appearing in my kitchen?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “We were playing tag,” Emma says dryly. She turns to look at Regina. “I can’t believe you actually left me.”

 

Regina gives her a bored shrug. “Next time be ready on time and I won’t.”

 

Snow clears her throat, and both Regina and Emma turn to her.

 

“Why are you two here? In my kitchen?” Snow asks them with curious eyes and confusion all over her face.

 

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “Sunday lunch. We spoke about this earlier. Ring any bells?”

 

“I’m here for my son,” Regina says, pushing past Emma.

 

“Our son,” Emma calls after her.

 

“Are you two...fighting?” Snow asks with that terribly confused face.

 

“Yes,” Emma says, as Regina says, “No.”

 

Snow smartly decides not to ask any more questions and simply says. “Right.”

 

“Moms,” Henry calls out as he rushes down the stairs, his steps heavy and loud. “You’re here. Together. Wait. Why are you here together?”

 

“They’re playing tag,” David informs Henry from the sofa, and Emma leans back on the bar stool so she can eye her father. “What? I’m only going by what you told your mother.”

 

Regina sighs like everybody – except Henry, not Henry, never Henry – is a pain in her neck that she just can’t get rid of. “Your mother is here to visit Snow and David, and I am here to pick you up.”

 

“You’re not staying for lunch?” Snow asks with a frown that she doesn’t even try to hide as she looks at Regina. “I’m making enough sandwiches for everybody.”

 

“Sandwiches,” Regina repeats, “something you couldn’t possibly mess up.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Then again, I’ve seen what your daughter can do with eggs and toast, so I won’t expect too much of you either, Snow.”

 

“Yes. Let’s tell everybody how I burnt breakfast,” Emma says with an eye roll. “Last time I try to do something nice for you.”

 

“You made her breakfast?” Snow asks, and apparently that confused look she’s been sporting since they arrived is just her face for the day.

 

Emma drops her head down on the wood surface in front of her. “Everybody just... Stop talking.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Of course the one time they all listen to her it’s before they’re sitting down for lunch.

 

So lunch is awkward.

 

Everybody keeps looking at her, and it’s super weird.

 

Her parents look confused, which is at least a look that she doesn’t have to receive all on her own because they’re giving Regina the same look.

 

Henry looks like he wants to say something, but he just shoves food into his mouth every time his self-control slips. (And the kid really eats a lot these days, she mentally notes.)

 

And Regina. Well, Emma’s not sure what kind of look Regina’s giving her, because it keeps changing like Regina’s not even sure how she wants to feel at the moment. There are soft smiles one second, and then she’s glaring at Emma at like she did something wrong.

 

Baby Neal is the only one who doesn’t look at Emma. He has only eyes for the bottle Snow’s feeding him from.

 

Emma mostly just counts down the minutes until it’s time to go.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“If you need someone to tag along for a second opinion, let me know,” David tells Emma, just as Regina is exiting the bathroom and entering the living room where they’re talking. She must give David an odd look, because next thing Emma knows, David’s explaining, “Emma’s searching for a new place to live. I was offering my assistance.”

 

“Oh,” Regina says simply.

 

Emma looks over her shoulder to Regina, and then back to her father. “And I was about to tell you that I’ve already got someone to help me. August has been helping me find places. But I’ll let you know.”

 

“I didn’t know you and August were spending time together again,” Snow says as she sits down in her chair. She kinda looks like she wants to be happy for Emma, like maybe she’s reading into it way too much, but she also, surprisingly, looks disappointed.

 

“Um, yeah.” Emma scratches at the back of her neck and shrugs. “He stopped by when I was at the hospital. He’s been helping me look for a good place to move to and stuff.”

 

Henry frowns at her like she did something wrong. “You know Mom knows this town better than anyone, right?” he says, looking over to Regina. “She could have told you the best places to look at, could have probably helped you way more than he did.”

 

Emma looks over to her as well, notices the tightness in her jaw. Her brow furrows. “Regina’s too busy for that,” Emma decides.

 

“Thank you for deciding what I have time for, Miss Swan.” Regina’s eyes turn cold and she moves away from Emma and looks at Henry. “I’m sure your mother can find what she’s looking for with the help of a man who used to be a wooden puppet. After all, it’s not as though I know the ins and outs of the town he spent most of his time in as a child.”

 

David and Snow share a look, and then the two of them get up and excuse themselves. Henry follows.

 

Emma frowns. “Where’s everybody going?”

 

“The park,” Snow says.

 

“The docks,” David says.

 

Henry rolls his eyes. “We’re leaving so the two of you can figure out your nonsense because one awkward lunch was all we’re willing to take.”

 

“Henry!”

 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Moms, I love you, but I think we all like it better when you’re not fighting. It’s been really nice having my family get along. Whatever happened, I think you guys need to fix it so things can go back to how they were.”

 

Emma watches Regina’s shoulders fall a little, her eyes softening. “No sweets while you’re out,” she says in her own way of agreeing with him and saying she’ll try.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma pulls her legs up and sits crossed-leg as she waits for Regina to come back into the living room. “Are you seriously this upset with me because I lost track of time?”

 

Regina lets out a long exhalation and finally sits down in the armchair. “I was not upset with you because you lost track of time.”

 

Emma waits for her to continue, because she had clearly been upset about something, but she doesn’t say anything else. Emma chews on her cheek while trying to read Regina’s mood, trying to understand what’s wrong with her. But she’s getting nothing. It makes her sigh.

 

“Then what the hell happened between us hanging out at your house to our son thinking we need to be sat in a corner until we correct our behavior?” Emma asks, exasperated.

 

Regina says nothing.

 

Emma groans. “Would you please just talk to me, Regina.”

 

Regina looks over to Emma, and there’s that mix of emotion in her eyes again, like she just can’t decide what to settle on. Emma decides to make it easier for her. She gets up and kneels in front of Regina and looks up at her, places her hands on the chair next to Regina’s thighs, careful not to actually touch her. Regina’s mood shifts when Emma’s near, and Emma hopes it’s enough for Regina to just open up about whatever it is that’s bothering her.

 

“Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

 

Regina shakes her head at that. “Don’t do that with me. I do not want for you to assume that you need to fix a problem every time I shut you out, or that my reason for appearing distant is even because of something you did.”

 

It’s what Emma’s been used to doing lately, how she felt she needed to be with Killian. She gets a bitter taste in her mouth when she realizes that, and she closes her eyes and sighs. “It’s a habit I apparently developed recently and can’t seem to shake.”

 

“I noticed,” Regina says, not unkindly. “You are not responsible for my mood, Emma.”

 

“I know that,” Emma tells Regina, opening her eyes back and looking into her eyes. “I know that. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to, I don’t know, make it better.”

 

Regina gives her a slight nod. “You also did nothing wrong.”

 

“Then why does it feel like it? Because I thought we were having a good time this morning, then everything sorta just went _boom_ \- -” she mimics an explosion with her hands, "- -out of nowhere. Like, I get that it was my fault we were running late, but...”

 

Regina takes a moment before she breathes out like she’s giving up on something, perhaps an internal battle. “I had a wonderful time with you this morning, Emma.”

 

Emma frowns, not understanding. “Then why did you get mad at me?”

 

“I wasn’t mad at you,” she tells her simply, and Emma doesn’t think she’s lying.

 

“Then...?”

 

Regina holds Emma’s gaze as she tucks some of Emma’s hair behind her ear. Emma’s insides twist and she leans her head against Regina’s hand, which makes a small smile finally appear on her lips. “You have no idea what kind of hold you have on me, do you?” Regina asks quietly.

 

Emma doesn’t really understand what Regina means, but the way Regina is looking at her makes her heart race. It’s that look she had given her back in the Underworld, that look that said _you could ruin me, but I trust that you won’t_.

 

Regina pats Emma’s cheek, lets her hand linger, and then pulls it away and folds her hands on her lap. “I wasn’t angry with you. I was angry with myself.”

 

Emma’s confusion only gets worse, and she feels like she needs time to sit down and decode everything Regina’s saying to her because it’s not making any sense. “Why?” she asks, because it’s probably the only thing that she can ask that might get her an answer she understands.

 

Regina smiles sadly. “You weren’t the only one to lose track of time. I did as well. I was too- -” she pauses and clenches her hands, “- -wrapped up in the moment with you this morning.”

 

Emma shakes her head, because everything had felt really good with Regina earlier. “Too wrapped up? I thought we were supposed to enjoy ourselves.”

 

“Of course, dear.”

 

“Then...? What?”

 

“Do you know how you fear me rejecting you?” Regina asks gently.

 

Emma still subconsciously moves away a little. “Yeah,” she says slowly.

 

“You aren’t the only one with fears,” she says simply, and then that’s the end of the conversation.

 

Emma moves out of Regina’s way as she gets up to put some space between them.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You were mad at yourself for enjoying the morning with me.**

 

It’s three o’clock in the morning, and Emma’s spent the whole night, the whole day, thinking about her conversation with Regina and the mood she’d been in. Things didn’t really start making sense to her until about an hour ago.

 

She had thought about how Regina had let Emma just hang out with her.

 

Regina had brought home work with her, and even though Emma had been bored out of her mind, she hadn’t wanted to leave when Regina told her she needed to get a few things done before going to pick up Henry. Regina had sat on one of the loveseats in the study, and Emma had played on her phone while alternating between resting her head on Regina’s lap when it was empty and leaning on her shoulder.

 

When Regina was finished, Emma had moved her work to the coffee table and laid her head down on Regina’s lap while laying on her back. She’d put her phone away, and it had just been them, just the quiet. They didn’t have enough quiet in their lives, so Emma soaked it up greedily. Emma didn’t know how eyes could be so mesmerizing, but Emma had thought that she could look into Regina’s all morning, had sworn all the secrets of the universe swirled inside Regina’s eyes when she was looking down at Emma.

 

There hadn’t been anything more than that, more than Regina looking at Emma and Emma looking back at her, and yet somehow the time had slipped away from them. It didn’t make sense to Emma at the time, how quickly Regina’s mood had changed, how easily she had gotten upset with Emma for not being ready to go. But it does now.

 

Regina said she had been angry with herself, and now Emma understands. She understands because she recognizes that vulnerable look that had been in Regina’s eyes, that cautious _I want this but I don’t think I deserve it_ look. Emma’s been so worried about her own vulnerabilities that she has forgotten to consider Regina’s in that moment, forgotten how Regina is a woman who sometimes still doesn’t think she can have the things she wants. And Regina wanted Emma, had been allowing herself to enjoy something she thought would eventually be taken away from her. Regina had gotten upset when she realized how caught up in the moment she had been, and Emma not being ready to go on time had just been the easiest thing for her to use as an excuse for the swift switch in her mood.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I’m not going anywhere. I know you might not believe me. I know I wouldn’t believe someone if they told me that when I was worried they would leave. But I think I would believe you. So maybe you’ll believe me.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I don’t think anyone has understood how I fear being pushed away the way you do. I want you to know that if that’s what you’re worried about with me, you don’t have to be. I think I want this thing between us to stay how it is even more than you do.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You know how you asked me what I wouldn’t be comfortable with earlier? I never did give you an answer. But maybe I should have. Maybe you need to know.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I’m comfortable with everything. Anything. Whatever you want. I don’t know what this is or what you want it to be, but I know that there isn’t anything you could tell me you want that I won’t want to give to you.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I don’t easily share my feelings with people, but if that’s what it takes for you to know that I’m here for you... We can talk. Actually talk. Like in person instead of me texting you in the middle of the night while you’re probably sleeping. If you need to hear me tell you how I feel, then I can do that for you.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **If I’ve got this all wrong then just ignore these texts.**

 

Emma stays awake for a little bit longer, thinking. But soon she gets tired and cuddles up with the pillow that doesn’t smell like coconut or hum in delight when Emma’s fingers squeeze it.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I miss you.**

 

Emma puts her phone down and closes her eyes, feeling empty inside.

 

She’s close to falling asleep when her phone vibrates.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I miss you, too.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Sleep well, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.**

 

Emma’s finger lightly touches the screen, right where Regina’s messages are as if it can give her the warmth that touching Regina can. She puts her phone down on the bed and rereads the two messages over and over again until the screen turns black, and soon she falls asleep with the sound of Regina calling her darling in her head even though she’s never done that in person.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Running late two days in a row is never a good thing, and Emma doesn’t even have a good excuse. She had overslept since she stayed up late, and now she’s rushing to the diner for breakfast. It’s on her way there that she bumps into August, who waves her down even as he crosses the street to get to her. She had decided to walk the short distance because she had things to do around town, but maybe she should have driven so she would have gotten there sooner.

 

“You’re in a rush,” he notes, falling into step beside her.

 

“I was supposed to meet the family at the diner ten minutes ago.” She glances over to him. “We have breakfast together weekdays before work. It’s also the only time I really get to spend with Henry until I have a place with a room for him. So I don’t like being late.”

 

“Since you’ve brought that up. I was talking to a friend of mine and he told me his next door neighbor just moved in with her new husband, so there’s a vacancy if you want to go take a look at it.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma says as they approach Granny’s. “Today? I’m free this afternoon around 1:30 if you are.”

 

August opens the door for her and she smiles at him. “That works for me,” he says.

 

Emma is about to say goodbye to him when she notices all the eyes from her usual morning table are on them. She furrows her brow and glances over to Regina, Regina whose eyes burn with fire and look like they might actually cause harm to August if she doesn’t stop glaring at him. Emma sighs. “I’ll, um, see you later,” she says, patting his arm and pushing him away in a clear sign of dismissal.

 

“Are you inviting him to have breakfast with your family now, too?” Regina asks, snarky and jealous. Emma’s not even going to try to call it anything else. Regina reeks of jealousy, and Emma just doesn’t get why.

 

Emma ignores her and reaches behind her head to ruffle Henry’s hair. “Hey, kid,” she says with a smile. “Mom, Dad,” she says when she turns to her parents. She leans down and kisses Baby Neal’s head. Then she sits across from Regina and sighs. “Sorry I’m late.”

 

Hurt flashes in Regina’s eyes, but she doesn’t say anything else to Emma.

 

Snow looks between them with sad eyes, and then she focuses on her oatmeal.

 

“I see that talk went well,” Henry mumbles, clearly annoyed with Emma, maybe even with Regina, too.

 

Emma doesn’t care, though. Emma had been looking forward to seeing Regina, and the first thing out of her mouth wasn’t even a hello or any sign that Regina might have been looking forward to seeing her as well. She didn’t want to deal with a jealous Regina, especially when it made no sense for Regina to be jealous.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“We need to talk,” Emma tells Regina as they watch Henry walk the rest of the way to school by himself.

 

Regina crosses her arms and glances out of the corner of her eye. “What do we need to talk about?”

 

Emma stuffs her hands into her back pockets as she says, “Us. You. Why the hell are you so jealous of August? And don’t even say you’re not. I know you, Regina. You’re jealous. But I don’t get why.”

 

Regina grits her teeth, but then she relaxes her jaw a moment later and looks at Emma again like she’s searching her eyes for something. “I read your text messages last night.”

 

“O-kay,” Emma says slowly. “That’s not really what I was asking you about right now.”

 

“I’m well aware of what you asked me,” she tells Emma as she starts walking away.

 

Emma sighs loudly and follows.

 

“I don’t have a response to your question, but I do have one to your text messages if you wish to hear it.”

 

“You know he and I are just friends, right?” Emma asks, because she can’t let go of the August thing that easily.

 

Regina makes a noise in her throat before turning to quickly look at Emma. “As are you and I, my dear, so I don’t see the point you are trying to make.”

 

“It doesn’t feel like there’s anything _just_ about us, Regina.” Emma looks down to the ground, watches her boots and Regina’s stilettos. “There’s no reason for you to be jealous.”

 

Regina huffs. “Jealousy is irrational most of the time. I know I don’t have any reason to be jealous.”

 

“But you are.”

 

Regina stops walking. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

 

Emma turns around to face her, ignoring the few people walking around them. “You’re not just my friend, not the way he is. That’s the point I’m trying to make. What we have...” Emma scuffs her boot on the sidewalk and frowns. “It means something to you too, right? I’m not making this all up in my head. It’s...”

 

Regina closes the distance between them and tucks her fingers beneath Emma’s chin and makes her look up at her. “ _You_ mean something to me,” Regina tells her with so much emotion in her voice that it nearly knocks all the air out of Emma. “You’re not making anything up in your head, Emma. All right? I care very deeply for you.”

 

Emma’s eyes search Regina’s, believing her words but needing to be sure, needing to look at Regina and see that warmth in them that had been in them yesterday when they were in the study and she thought everything that would ever matter was in Regina’s eyes. She smiles when she sees it, smiles the only way one can when everything feels like it’s coming together and the things that never looked right finally start making sense.

 

Emma takes Regina’s hand into hers and gives it a squeeze.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The weeks that follow that morning are considerably less chaotic than what Emma has grown used to in Storybrooke. The last time they had the kind of peace that Emma finds she must take advantage of because it never lasts long enough was right before Gold returned and brought with him Cruella and Ursula. It had been that month and a half when Regina and Emma’s friendship had grown to become something strong where both she and Regina knew they had each other’s backs. These two weeks of peace have brought new changes to Emma and Regina’s relationship as well, changes that have strengthened their bond and that which they have with the rest of their family.

 

While Emma’s search for her new apartment has been put on hold due to lack of real estate and Emma finding a reason to dislike each new place she saw, she has found that she is no longer in a rush to find herself a new apartment. It would only be a storage space for her, if she’s being honest with herself. Out of the last fourteen days that have passed, Emma’s spent ten of those in Regina’s bed. (She spent the other four working the night shift.)

 

Regina had spent the first week worrying that Henry wasn’t okay with their arrangement. “I’m gonna be sleeping with your mom,” wasn’t what they had discussed saying to Henry, but it was what slipped out of Emma’s mouth when Regina tried explaining Emma sleeping over to Henry and was making everything sound more complicated than it had to be. It was hilarious – or horrifying, if you had asked Regina – because apparently the first thing one thinks when told something like that _isn’t_ that you’re sleeping over because cuddling is the only thing that gets you to sleep anymore. _Strange_. Henry had turned bright red, and Regina’s nails had dug into Emma’s arm so hard she had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t scream. She, of course, clarified that she had meant that they were literally sleeping together, sharing a bed sleeping together, and that seemed to confuse him. Emma thought he had taken the news better when he thought they were having sex – which, Emma didn’t understand until the second week.

 

Three days ago, Emma overheard a conversation between Henry and Snow that had explained what had been going on with her family lately. Henry sounded frustrated, and Emma had been about to walk in to see if there was anything she could do, maybe play a video game with him or something. But then she had heard him telling Snow how they were getting nowhere (them being her and Regina) and he didn’t know how much longer he could handle sitting on his hands when neither of his moms were going to ask the other out. The first thing Emma had done after hearing that conversation was tell Regina, and the first thing Regina did was laugh. She laughed. Regina laughed because _of course_ she already knew what Henry was up to. Emma was slipping, because she should have known too.

 

After Sunday lunch last week, David brought Emma and Henry to a field and tossed metal (but fake) swords in front of their feet. They spent the afternoon in battle, the two of them against David, and Emma hadn’t noticed when Snow and Regina showed up with Baby Neal until Henry was calling out “Hi, Mom” and then Emma was being knocked down by David’s sword. Emma argued it had been her arm he had hit, so it wasn’t like she would have actually died. He grinned at her and shook his head, agreed, and then Emma showed off all her skills to make up for Regina seeing her almost get defeated. Showing off was only a bad thing if you weren’t all that good and the person you were doing it for wasn’t interested, right? It just so happened that Emma had wicked skills and the only time Regina’s eyes weren’t on Emma was when they were watching Henry. That was the day Emma learned the effect pride in Regina’s eyes had on her. (That night was the night Regina’s shower head found out.)

 

Emma found that sleeping beside a woman she found attractive became more difficult the longer she slept beside her. The warm, safe feeling that she felt when sleeping with Regina in her embrace was still there. She curled around her and held her close and honestly couldn’t stand mornings more than usual because she never wanted to leave bed. But there was something new there, something growing. She’d been attracted to Regina for a lot longer than they’d been sleeping together. But it wasn’t until the ninth night they slept together, two nights ago, that Emma had been aroused while in her presence. She didn’t sleep a wink that night. If Regina hadn’t kept reaching for her every time they separated, Emma probably would have found a reason for why she needed to get out of bed and be somewhere else, anywhere else.

 

All in all, Emma thinks it’s been a really good two weeks for all of them.

 

It’s been so good that Emma’s pretty sure that there’s absolutely no way, no way at all, that Regina can possibly be mad about the mess Emma’s made of her living room.

 

“What in the world are you doing in here?” Regina asks, no hello, no it’s nice to be home, none of that.

 

So maybe Regina _might_ be mad about the mess.

 

“Okay. Before you get worked up,” Emma says, standing up from where she’d been sitting crossed-leg in the middle of Regina’s living room, “let me explain.”

 

Regina’s eyes are moving around the room, so Emma moves in front of her to block her view, grinning in front of her face. She’s got her dark rim glasses on – because she ran out of contact solution and still hasn’t bought a new bottle – and her hair is in the curls she gets after braiding it, and she _knows_ that Regina looks at her a little longer when she looks like this. She can _totally_ distract Regina.

 

“I’m waiting,” Regina says, not even losing a tiny bit of the fire in her eyes.

 

Or maybe not.

 

“You know how we missed Christmas last year?” she asks. Regina has actually missed several Christmases, but she doesn’t want to make the moment sad when she’s got a really fun idea in the works.

 

“Yes,” Regina says slowly, like she’s hoping Emma has a point and that she’ll hurry up and get to it.

 

Emma nods. “Well, I was doing some cleaning around the house.”

 

Regina makes a sound of disbelief.

 

“Hey,” Emma says with a pout. “I clean.”

 

“The only thing you clean is your plate when you’re eating, my dear. Please, do get on with it. Why does my living room look like you’ve let a group of toddlers loose inside of it?”

 

Emma’s cheeks redden slightly. “That was all me. I was, uh, looking for something. Anyway. Christmas. I was thinking about how we didn’t get to celebrate Christmas. It was Neal’s first, and even though it’s not like he would remember it anyway, it seems like the kind of thing my parents would want to have pictures and videos of, or whatever parents do.”

 

“Did I miss something? Or have you suddenly forgotten that you are a parent as well?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders, walking back into the living room. “I’m a different breed.”

 

“I still don’t see what any of this has to do with the living room.”

 

“Oh.” Emma grins, spinning around. “Henry helped me bring down the Christmas decorations and a bunch of other stuff. He said it was your favorite holiday to spend with him. So I thought I would bring you Christmas in March, because it’s not like the date is what’s... What?”

 

Regina’s eyes have softened, and she’s not looking at Emma like she’s considering strangling her anymore.

 

“Regina?” Emma asks as she slowly walks over to where Regina’s now standing. She steps over boxes and Christmas lights and puts her hand on Regina’s cheek and brushes her thumb over Regina’s soft skin.

 

“Christmas in March,” Regina says with a little smile.

 

“Well, yeah. That’s definitely a thing.” Emma laughs when Regina starts to chuckle. “Still mad at me?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Regina says as she puts her hand on top of the one Emma still has on her cheek, “very mad at you. The living room has _never_ looked so messy, and I once had a very young child living here who liked to pull everything off the shelves he could reach.”

 

“I’ll clean it all up. Promise.”

 

Regina leans forward and rests her forehead on Emma’s, breathes in and closes her eyes. “Christmas in March sounds lovely.”

 

Emma smiles, feeling proud of herself.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s hair is in a messy bun, she’s wearing a tank top with leggings, and there’s music playing loudly in the kitchen.

 

It’s been three days since she told everybody about her plans for the family gathering, and it’s been the busiest day Emma’s had in weeks. So far she’s finished the last minute decorations around the house and tree (because it’s not Christmas without a tree), wrapped up all the presents she’s giving to her family members, started cooking dinner (because burning toast and eggs doesn’t mean she can’t cook; it’s multitasking when cooking she sucks at), and now she’s working on a batch of sugar cookies.

 

She’s exhausted. But the moment Regina comes home and sees it, Emma knows it’ll all be worth it.

 

Emma grins to herself and moves with a little extra energy.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s cleaned up by the time Regina arrives with her parents and Baby Neal. Henry had helped her set up and stuff, so he’s already there. Even though for Regina Christmas is all about Henry, for Henry and Emma, this is all about her.

 

Emma rushes to get the door, running her fingers through her loose curls. Her feet are bare, but she has some heels she’ll put on later if she actually feels like wearing shoes. They complete the outfit, but Emma thinks she looks pretty damn good in her red dress without them.

 

“You know she’ll think you look nice no matter what, right?” Henry asks, rolling his eyes as he passes her to get the door.

 

“I’m just fixing my hair, kid.”

 

“For no reason at all, right?” Henry asks with a _you’re not fooling me look_ as he pauses with his hand on the door. “You normally take less than ten minutes to get dressed in the morning. You do remember we live together, right? You took over an hour tonight. You might have yourself convinced you’re ‘just’ fixing your hair, but I know better.”

 

And then he opens the door and smiles widely at his mom and grandparents while Emma looks at the back of his head with wide eyes.

 

A warm finger knocks under her chin. “Close your mouth, dear.”

 

Emma startles slightly, but then she turns to Regina with a large smile. “Your son is...” She rolls her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

 

Regina looks over her shoulder and a smile crosses her lips like it always does when she looks at Henry, and _whoa_ , Emma’s heart forgets how to do that beating thing where it actually paces itself instead of going crazy in her chest.

 

Emma clears her throat and reaches to pull her collar away from her neck because it feels like it’s too tight – only there’s nothing around her neck. It’s just suddenly very hot in the room and Regina’s smile is going to make Emma _melt_ right there in the foyer.

 

Regina turns back to Emma, and her eyes sweep over Emma with her red dress and bare feet with painted toenails. Her smile changes a little, but it still holds the glow of the stars and her eyes dance in the light as they meet Emma’s. “You look incredible,” Regina tells her, in the same way she sighs when Emma’s fingers are drawing circles on her back, and Emma feels a small shiver move through her.

 

“Thank you. So do you,” she says, because she does.

 

She hadn’t seen Regina before she left earlier, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. She’s wearing a dress as well, a blue one that sits on her curves just right, brings attention to them without taking the focus from Regina’s best features – her eyes and her smile, which Emma takes an extra moment to look at, feeling her pulse race as her eyes drop down to Regina’s lips. Her lipstick looks like crushed berries, like if Emma were to lean in and taste her mouth, it would be sweet. (She wants to test it out, even though she knows Regina’s lips will just taste like lipstick.)

 

Regina licks her lips and then steps closer. “You’re staring,” she whispers close to Emma’s ear.

 

Emma swallows, her stomach twisting. “I’m sorry.”

 

Regina pulls away, smirking. “Don’t be.”

 

“Soooo,” Henry says, and both his mothers jump a little as if they had forgotten they weren’t alone.

 

Snow and David are grinning from ear to ear, and even Baby Neal is gurgling and making happy sounds.

 

“Right,” Emma says, clapping her hands together. “Let me show you guys around.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s the little moments in life that makes it all worth it. Emma’s curled up in the corner of the couch with a hot cocoa later that night, watching everybody, her family. It’s the moments when Henry and David make a battlefield out of the living room and they’re playing with Henry’s new toy swords that are apparently ten times cooler than the ones they had used in the park. It’s the moments when Snow and Regina laugh while looking at Baby Neal and Emma catches Snow smiling at Regina when she’s not looking like Regina’s the long lost best friend she had thought she lost and is so happy she has found. It’s the moment when _nobody_ in her family has any rhythm and can’t dance, but David is making everybody join him. (Regina refuses, and David reminds her he’s a good dance partner.)

 

Christmas in March isn’t about the presents or the food or the tree or the decorations. Christmas in March is about this thing Emma still sometimes wakes up and forgets she has. It’s about family, her family. And Emma’s heart feels warm and heavy as she drinks her cocoa and enjoys the sound of happiness, the sound of the people she loves enjoying themselves. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and thought she would never have, and it’s overwhelming how perfect it all feels even when she knows chaos can be right around the corner again.

 

“Hey,” David says, patting her on the shoulder as he sits down beside her.

 

Emma smiles behind her hot chocolate. “I’m not dancing with you,” Emma tells him with a laugh.

 

He leans back into the sofa like he’d already known that. He tilts his head to where Snow and Regina are, both of them watching Henry play with Neal. “You did good, Emma.”

 

She gives him a confused look. “Huh?”

 

“You know, I didn’t know her as well as your mother did. I didn’t know this side of her until recently,” he says, glancing over to Emma. “But I know it’s been a long time since she has been this happy.”

 

Emma’s eyes move over to Regina. She smiles like someone who doesn’t know the pain of being alone, and it’s really beautiful because Emma knows how much of her life she spent that way, even when there were people around her. Emma smiles to herself and shifts on the sofa, leans her head down on her father’s shoulder. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’s done this and still have several fingers left. But it feels nice, and she’s still overwhelmed with her feelings about these people she gets to call her family.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You know you’re basically paying your grandson to hang out with you, right?” Emma asks as she helps Snow with the carseat.

 

Snow smiles, like of course she knows that. “We like having him over, and we’re his grandparents. It’s what grandparents do. By asking him to help with Neal we aren’t spoiling him.”

 

“Why does that sound like it was Regina’s idea?” Emma asks with a laugh.

 

“It was,” she admits with a grin as she looks at Emma over Neal’s seat. “I wanted to thank you for inviting us to share this night with you guys. We had a lot of fun.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Emma says.

 

Snow smiles for a moment longer at Emma and then scoots out of the car. “I’ll give you copies of all the pictures I took,” her mother says as she moves over to Emma and pulls her in for a hug, “and we’ll make sure Henry doesn’t have any more dessert before he goes to bed.”

 

Emma laughs as she hugs her mother. “I don’t think he could stomach it even if he tried after all the food he had. It took hours to cook, and he basically sucked it all down in five minutes.”

 

“I can hear you talking about me,” Henry says over the top of Regina’s car.

 

Emma grins at him. “Good. Maybe you’ll learn to chew and savor by the next time we eat a meal together.”

 

“Mom says I get my table manners from you.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Of course she did.”

 

“Are we all set?” David asks.

 

Emma nods and then shakes her head. “Nope. I need Regina’s keys. Give me a minute.”

 

Emma stuffs her hands into her hoodie as she walks around to the front door. Regina had driven them there, but Emma said she would drive them home so Regina could just relax. She had suggested a bath, which Regina had laughed at and accused her of just wanting her to smell like that new scent she had just purchased.

 

She’s about to open the door when it opens for her and Regina appears with her keys hanging on her crooked finger. “Did you happen to forget something?” Emma reaches for the keys, but Regina pulls them away. “I expect you back home in under fifteen minutes.”

 

Emma grins and nods her head. “Back home,” she repeats as she reaches for the keys again.

 

Regina smiles gently at Emma. “No lingering.”

 

“Soon as they’re out of the car, I’ll pull away,” Emma says with a chuckle as Regina rolls her eyes.

 

“You can make sure they get inside, dear.”

 

“Then I’ll come back home,” Emma says with a wide grin, and Regina’s eyes twinkle. She starts backing up as she says, “Don’t miss me too much.”

 

“I won’t,” Regina says, but her smile won’t leave her lips and her eyes hold onto Emma’s.

 

“Do you need me to pick anything up while I’m out?”

 

Regina shakes her head. “I do, however, need you to leave so you may return.”

 

Emma looks around them and then bites the corner of her lip.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking...” Regina says like a warning, but her breath catches in her throat and her arms wrap around Emma’s waist when Emma rushes back over to her.

 

Emma hums in delight, enjoying the warm press of Regina’s body against hers.

 

“Go,” Regina whispers.

 

Emma groans and holds Regina to her. “Why’d you let me hug you if you want me to go?”

 

“I don’t _want_ you to go, but your parents are waiting for you to take them home.”

 

Emma sighs and leans her forehead against Regina’s. “Fine. I’ll be back.”

 

Regina chuckles quietly and pushes Emma off of her. “You have to actually leave before that happens.”

 

“I’m going,” Emma swears as she pockets Regina’s keys and then places her hands on Regina’s cheeks.

 

Regina goes quiet and the March breeze blows across Emma’s skin. Emma licks her lips and glances up into Regina’s eyes, finds all the warmth she will ever need in them. Emma’s heart tells her everything she needs to know as it races when Regina lifts her hand and slides it into Emma’s hair.

 

“You’re coming right back,” Regina whispers.

 

Emma smiles, because she knows that. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to stay. “Keep the bed warm for me?”

 

“Of course, darling.”

 

Emma leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Regina’s mouth, an upgrade from cheek and temple kisses.

 

Regina lets her pull away, only to bring her back with a soft, “Wait.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow raises, but she doesn’t question anything when she sees Regina’s eyes searching hers for something. She knows what’s coming before it happens, but when Regina leans forward and places a chaste kiss on her lips, Emma’s heart still beats like crazy.

 

“I’ll see you when you return,” Regina breathes out.

 

Emma nods her head and has to actually put thought into walking away.

 

_Don’t fall._

 

_Don’t trip._

 

_Right foot._

 

_Left foot._

 

_Don’t look back._

 

_Don’t look back._

 

_Don’t look back._

 

Emma looks back.

 

Regina’s watching her, her fingers pressed to her lips like they’ll keep the warmth of Emma’s mouth there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: wake up kisses pressed gently to the column of A’s neck or the underside of B’s jaw


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of plans! I hit a few bumps and the road trip didn't work out, so we've got a chapter focused on home instead. Not as fun, but hopefully adequate. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support and for your patience. It's much appreciated. 
> 
> Also, big thanks to Skye_La because I know I bitched and moaned a lot while trying to pull through writing this chapter, and I don't know how you coped with me.
> 
> *You all should totally check out this [incredible cover](http://devonking.deviantart.com/art/Thatcounted-603734146) DevonKing made bc it's perfection and everyone should see it!*
> 
> **this chapter has been edited since its posting date. my apologies to anyone who was offended by the conversation surrounding the U-Haul joke. it has since been changed to exclude what some thought was Regina/Emma having an issue with lesbianism.**

**wake up kisses pressed gently to the column of A’s neck or the underside of B’s jaw**

 

Emma used to wonder what really made a place a home, what separated homes from houses. Because for a long time, Emma had been someone who had never felt like she had a home.

 

What a house has is simple: a door, a roof, walls, and floors. It needs a bathroom, a kitchen, and somewhere to sleep. A house doesn’t require much to be considered a house. A house is merely architecture, a structure, a location.

 

But a home isn’t a building, not when Emma thinks about it. Home is more than just the place where you shower and sit down for your meals. Home is more than the place where you store your things and send your mail. Home is more than where you have a key and know which drawer the silverware is in. Emma knows this because she’s had all of that and it was never home for her, just a place to live.

 

Home, Emma thinks with a warm feeling inside her chest as she lets herself into the house that she has been spending most of her time outside of work in. Home is a house and then some. Home is what’s inside – not the furniture or the appliances, but the mug sitting next to the coffee machine in the morning when she comes downstairs, the small dent that’s starting to slowly appear in her favorite seat in the living room. Home is tick marks on the inside of Henry’s closet door that she discovers when she’s putting something away for him, all with ages that stopped too soon that she casually brings up over dinner one night. Home is the sweater that Regina wears when she’s reading late at night when Emma gets back from work, soft and old and like nothing in Regina’s closet because it belongs to Emma. Home is under sheets that smell like rainwater when they’re just washed and a sweet combination of Emma and Regina after they’ve spent the night rolling away from each other but always pulling the other one back close to them.

 

_I expect you back home..._

 

Home isn’t a place at all, not for Emma. Home isn’t four walls and a roof. Home is two arms and one heart that beats out the sound of Emma’s name in a language that only her own heart understands. Home is Regina and Henry and _closer_ whispered in the middle of the night. Home is where her worries fade and she can breathe, where warm isn’t a temperature but a feeling in her chest. Home is where there is love that needs no reason nor explanation, where it exists the same way oxygen does, where there is never a shortage of it.

 

Emma unzips her hoodie as she walks up the stairs to the second level, shrugs it off as she makes her way to the bedroom that she spends her nights in. The lights are off and the door has been left open for her. She pads into the room on her bare feet, quiet as she reaches down for the hem of her dress and pulls it off while walking in. She moves around the room like someone who knows it well enough to do so with their eyes closed and still not worry about stubbing their toes. (Emma knows better than to actually try this. She’d probably stub her toe while watching every move her feet make.)

 

She neatly folds her dress over the armchair and puts her hoodie on top of it, leaving her in the mix-match bra and panties she’d been wearing underneath. The clothes on the armchair will be taken care of in the morning, as they always are. Regina’s tidy and meticulous about things, but Emma’s a ‘wear it, throw it aside’ kind of person. They compromise. Emma folds her clothes and takes care of them before going down for breakfast, and Regina walks past the clothes in the morning without giving into her impulse to pick them up and put them away or get on Emma about it.

 

It’s routine, all of it – going into the bathroom and turning on the light, going to the sink and washing her face clean, brushing her teeth, and then brushing her hair. She slips out of the bathroom for a shirt, glances over to the bed, winks, and then heads back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She replaces her bra with the soft cotton shirt, and then she’s back in the bedroom again, turning the bathroom light off as she exists.

 

This is how her nights go, whether she spent the day working, it had been a day around town, or if she hadn’t even left the house. Sometimes it switches up a little, a shower on nights her muscles are sore or she thinks she needs it before getting into bed with Regina, a drink when she’s wound up. Sometimes she skips it all and just climbs into bed and buries her head in the crook of Regina’s neck and doesn’t say a word, just needs the quiet and the smell of her skin as she falls asleep.

 

When Emma goes to bed this night, Regina, who has been laying on the side of the bed Emma calls her own, moves over and lifts the covers. This has become Emma’s norm, slipping underneath Regina’s sheets and sinking into the comfortable mattress. Regina’s body heat has warmed where Emma lays her body, and it’s one of those feelings that remind her of what’s been on her mind since she left to drive her parents to the loft. _Home._

 

Yes, Emma thinks, laying her head down on Regina’s chest and feeling the _thump thump_ of her calm heartbeat, this is home.

 

Emma breathes out slowly and then pulls in Regina’s familiar scent. _Home._

 

She closes her eyes and _sighs_ , because how is this even hers, even real, even something she gets to keep? Since when is she this lucky? There’s nobody waiting for her to get comfortable only to pull the rug from underneath her feet. There’s nobody telling her to pack her things because she has to go back. This is _hers_.

 

“I made it back home in under fifteen minutes,” she murmurs with a proud grin.

 

Regina’s chuckle is low and deep, and Emma feels every vibration of it beneath her head, in Regina’s chest. And it’s...

 

She sighs again, the way one does when contentment was once an unfamiliar concept but all they know in that moment.

 

Emma turns her head around and lifts it, looks into Regina’s eyes, watches as Regina quiets and looks back at her, allows Emma to search her face. Emma feels it in her chest, feels the pull and the weight of her full heart. She brings her fingers up to Regina’s mouth, to her soft, soft lips, watches the way her pale fingers glide across them, feels the puffs of warm breaths when Regina’s lips part, and then smiles when Regina does, when brown eyes glitter in the dark like stars in the night sky.

 

Yes, this is home, and it feels incredible.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma wakes up with one leg kicked out from underneath the cover, almost completely off the bed. Regina has threatened to kick _Emma_ out of the bed a few times since they’ve started spending every night together. There are nights her limbs feel too long and they push out this way and that way, and those are the nights Regina makes her sleep on her side of the bed – she still grins stupidly when she thinks about having a side that is hers – but Regina still finds a way to end up touching her in the night. Sometimes it’s just a foot that brushes against Emma every so often, sometimes a leg, most of the time when their bodies aren’t in full contact, their hands find each other, fingers lacing together, slipping between each other effortlessly. If Emma can’t have Regina's body pressed against her, she likes that best, loves the way it feels to have Regina’s fingers curled around her hand.

 

Emma turns over on her back, yawning widely without covering her mouth. She’s surprised she’s awake with it being Sunday. Sundays are their mornings alone, the time they have to themselves until they go to have lunch at the loft and then bring Henry home. Usually, Emma sleeps in as long as she can, which means waking up to an empty bed because Regina gets restless if she has to lay down too long with Emma still being asleep. And then she has coffee and breakfast with Regina and enjoys her Sunday the way she guesses normal people who don’t move moons with magic and turn trees back into adult men do.

 

She stretches her toes downward and then does the opposite with her arms, her back arching away from the bed. She groans lowly in her throat and then lets her body relax back down against the mattress. Beside her, Regina’s still sleeping peacefully, mostly quiet save for the small noise that comes out of her nose every couple of minutes, too infrequent to really be considered snoring. Emma sometimes catches herself smiling when she hears it, because it had been so completely unexpected and kinda cute – although Emma’s pretty sure her life would be threatened if she actually told Regina that. (Not that Regina would harm Emma. After all, Regina finds _her_ too cute for that – with good reason, she thinks with a mental grin.)

 

Emma reaches her hand over and brushes away the hair that has swept across Regina’s face, delicately tucks it behind her ear and then places her hand flat on her stomach. When she breathes out a contented sigh, her stomach expands and her eyes close. Ever since the night before, she’s had a lot on her mind. Having all of her family for their celebration had really hit her hard, and she had spent a great amount of the night sitting back and just taking in everything. But it’s what happened outside of the house later that night that Emma’s replaying as she follows the flow of her even breaths.

 

They’ve been _something_ for at least the last few weeks, maybe since the Underworld. Emma has tried putting a name to it, but nothing ever feels quite like it fits them. Regina’s her friend, her best friend, but she is certainly more than that. Labels make uncomplicated things difficult and harder to explain, and she really doesn’t see the point to slapping some sticker on them like they need to be categorized. She thinks that’s what everybody else is waiting for. The looks her parents and Henry give them are starting to make more sense to Emma. They’re trying figure out what’s going on, coming up with their own conclusions and wondering if they’re right.

 

Emma’s lips – basically – still buzz from the press of Regina’s mouth. She can still feel the way her heart had beat quickly in her chest as she walked away, the way she grinned so hard once she was out of sight that her cheeks ached all the way to her parents' house. Emma doesn’t need a label to understand what she is to Regina, or what Regina is to her.

 

There have been a few moments of doubt for Emma over the last few weeks, but they never last long enough for her to think much of them. It’s nearly impossible to question the significance of her role in Regina’s life when she thinks about the way Regina touches her, touches her like she does no other, soft and slow and somehow all over and never enough places at once. It’s impossible not to believe that Regina has feelings for her when she thinks about the way she catches Regina’s eyes on her, the looks anywhere from admiring to lustful. It’s impossible not to recognize that there is something deep and important between them when Emma thinks about all the times Regina has done nothing but prove to Emma that she is someone Regina cares for with every fiber of her being.

 

Emma taps her fingers against her stomach a few times before getting bored, feeling lonely. She rolls over and faces Regina. She’s on her back, but her head is facing away from Emma. Emma scoots over and runs her thumb over Regina’s jaw, glancing over to her face before she lets the backs of her fingers gently rub the sleeping woman’s cheek. Emma enjoys the way her skin feels when she’s not wearing makeup, when it’s just impossibly smooth flesh when she touches her. She leans towards Regina and lets her eyes slip shut and her head fall down to the crook of Regina’s neck, where she inhales and exhales quietly.

 

She has Regina kissing her on her mind again, the feeling of lips pressed to her own, incredibly gentle and gone too quickly. It had only been a second or two, but it had been _everything_. Her heartbeat speeds up right there in the bed just from thinking about it. Regina had brought Emma back to her and looked at Emma like she _needed_ something, but also like she wanted to give to Emma. And then there Regina was, pulling her in and connecting their mouths with the softest of kisses Emma has ever received.

 

Emma’s cheeks grow warm from thinking about it. She’s had several first kisses before, some that were terrible and others that were, honestly, quite good. But she’d never had one that made her feel like she was still floating on a cloud the next day, never been kissed by someone who was obviously attracted to her but made no move to rush things between them. Regina already has Emma in her bed, half-naked most of the time, and all she has done is cuddle with her at night and kissed her like time doesn’t matter and they could take as much as they need. It’s new. It’s different. It’s more than she ever expected to have.

 

Emma breathes out in the warm space against her neck and inches closer. It’s so quiet in the room that she can hear the faint sound of Regina’s heart pumping. She brings her hand to Regina’s chest and splays her fingers out, focuses until she can feel every thump of the organ. _Life._ She can feel everything when she feels the beating of Regina’s heart. It feels incredible, and Emma just lays there for a while and pays attention to nothing else but the feeling of Regina’s life below her hand.

 

The stretch of skin beneath her mouth tempts her after a few moments. Her lips are already touching Regina’s neck, already over her pulse point. So when she kisses Regina’s neck, Emma’s really just giving intention to something she had already been doing. When she moves her mouth up a few centimeters and does it again, it’s because she’s already discovered that there are not many things she enjoys more in the morning than the feeling of Regina’s sleep-warm skin. Her lips move slowly and carefully, brushing against Regina’s neck.

 

Regina stirs a little, but she doesn’t wake. Emma does it again, kisses Regina’s neck, holds her lips there and feels the rush of Regina’s heart beneath her hand. She knows it before she feels the fingers in her hair, can tell when Regina wakes up from the way her breath hitches quietly. Emma smiles crookedly against her and then lifts her head and flicks her eyes up to where sleepy russet ones are looking back at her. The hand on her head pulls her closer, and Emma takes it as a silent command to lay her head back down.

 

“Morning,” she mumbles as she places a kiss to Regina’s neck.

 

Regina’s entire body seems to react to Emma talking against her skin. Emma can feel the way she shifts and feels more than hears the groan that vibrates in her throat. The sound sends a rush of warmth sweeping through her body, and Emma finds herself groaning back in response before pulling Regina over by her waist and holding her tight to her body.

 

Regina makes a surprised sound at first, but then she threads her fingers through Emma’s messy hair and tangles their legs together. “Good morning, dear,” she whispers back, but it’s clear, probably to them both, that she’s not going to be staying awake.

 

She barely makes it two minutes.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The key comes two mornings after that.

 

It’s the most casual thing ever, really, which is probably why it takes Emma a moment to even realize that Regina’s just put a key in one hand and her coffee in the other. When she does notice it, she asks what’s probably the stupidest question she could have asked.

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

Thankfully for Emma, Regina already thinks she’s an idiot on her good days. So it’s not like her question is going to make that any worse.

 

“That is a key,” Regina tells her, “you use it to unlock the front door. Need I demonstrate to you how one should use it, or do you think you can figure it out?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s a wide smile growing on her lips that she has absolutely no control over. “You mean a key to here? Like, for the house?”

 

“Where else might I possibly be giving you a key to, Emma?” Regina asks as she takes a sip of her own coffee. There’s a little smirk behind the mug and her eyes hold on to Emma’s. It’s Tuesday, one of the days Emma works the night shift, so Regina has coffee with her in the morning since Emma can’t be bothered to get dressed and join her family for breakfast in the diner.

 

Emma looks down to the shiny metal in her hand and then closes her fist around it. “Thank you,” she says after a silent moment stretches out for a while.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The key, Emma realizes after another three days, is _not_ a key. Well, it is a key. But Emma failed to understand that it had also been an invitation, an invitation she soon discovers Regina thought she was turning down.

 

Regina sighs one of her long, exhausted with Emma sighs when she unlocks the front door for her. Emma’s smile fades when she hears it. “I just got here. You can’t tell me I already did something to piss you off.” She holds out a bottle of Regina’s favorite red wine – or at least the one she drinks the most and Emma _hopes_ is her favorite. “Besides, I come bearing gifts,” she adds and throws in a little pout because they make Regina weak, even if she likes to pretend they don’t.

 

Regina takes the bottle from her, reads the label, and then one corner of her mouth forgets it’s supposed to be in a straight line and she starts to smile.

 

“Your favorite, right?” Emma asks with a grin and a double eyebrow lift as she steps in. Regina answers with an agreeing hum as she closes the door behind Emma. “See, I pay attention.”

 

“That’s still up for debate,” Regina tells her, waiting patiently as Emma goes through the routine of taking off her boots, jacket, hat, and putting it all away in the closet. Regina’s practically got her trained, and Emma’s not even mad about it. “Have you already lost your key?” Regina asks when Emma spins around to face her.

 

Emma’s smile falls and her brow pinches slightly with confusion before she says, “Oh, no, I still have it. You just gave it to me. Why would you think I’ve lost it already?”

 

Regina gives Emma her best _are you serious?_ look and makes a point of looking at the door. “You’ve yet to let yourself in once since I gave it to you. Are you aware that you’ve unlocked and opened that front door more times before you were in possession of a key that was your own than you have now that I’ve given you a key?”

 

“Hmm,” Emma says like this is brand new news to her. It isn’t. She’s perfectly aware that the key has gone unused.

 

Regina’s back goes rigid for just a moment. But there must be something in Emma’s eyes that stops the process of her putting up her walls, because she lets her shoulders fall back down with a sigh. “Is there a reason that you haven’t used the key?” she asks, her grip on the neck of the wine bottle tightening enough for Emma to notice from a couple yards away.

 

Emma doesn’t answer at first, her hands seeking out the pockets that aren’t in the back of the black pants she’s wearing today with her gray henley. But then she turns around and goes back into the closet and gets her keys from her jacket. “How about we just change that?” she says as she pulls out the key ring, twirls it on her finger, and walks back over to the front door.

 

Regina stops her, placing a hand on the door and blocking Emma with her body. “What are you doing?”

 

“Unlocking the door,” Emma answers slowly.

 

Regina narrows her eyes. “Emma, don’t be–” She exhales loudly and then moves away, hand dropping heavily. “Thank you for the wine. It should pair well with dinner tonight if you’d like to open it later.”

 

Emma frowns as Regina walks away from her. She follows after a few moments, hurrying to catch up so that she’s by her side when they enter the dining room. “It’s stupid,” Emma tells her, and Regina pauses outside of the kitchen door with a look that begs for Emma to elaborate and just get to the point of what she’s going to say. “The key. I get ready to use it every time, but I, I still feel like I should be ringing the doorbell and being let in," she admits somewhat reluctantly. "It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned the right to just walk into the house yet.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders a little, but Regina doesn’t take what she’s just shared lightly. Emma can see her thinking it over, considering her words, doing that thing Regina does where she _listens_ instead of just hears. Emma’s chest still gets tight sometimes when she realizes how much Regina knows about her that she’s never really had to spell out, that Regina has figured out from all the little things she has shared and what hides between the lines.

 

Regina reaches out her hand and puts it on Emma’s arm and guides Emma into the kitchen – warm, solid, _there_. She brings her to the island and nods her head to one of the stools as a signal for her to sit down. “The reason I gave you the key, Emma,” she starts to say after Emma has settled and she herself has filled the kettle with water, “was so that you can come and go as you please without having to worry about if Henry or myself are here. I also thought that you might...”

 

Emma’s eyebrow lifts as Regina leans her hands palm-down on the island and bows her head, stopping mid-thought. She takes a steadying breath, and Emma considers getting up and wrapping her arms around her. She looks like she needs it, but at the same time, Emma doesn’t think she wants that right now. Emma chews on her lower lip and decides not to go over to her. She moves her hands a few inches closer to Regina, though, tangled together, but still there if Regina chooses to take them into her own.

 

“Perhaps it was wrong of me to assume that you wanted to make your living here with Henry and I a permanent situation,” Regina says quietly. Emma can see the way her jaw works, the way it tightens, and her stomach drops. “If me inviting you–”

 

“Wait. Regina,” Emma interrupts, clears her throat because it cracks, and then brings one of her hands to rub at the back of her neck. Regina looks up to her with a look on her face that makes Emma want to kiss her better, kiss away all the doubts she can see surfacing. “I _do_ want to live here with you and Henry,” she says, forcing her voice to remain steady even as her heart beats quickly. “Of course I want that. Why would you think–”

 

“Emma, I gave you a key to the house so that you might move your belongings in and stop having to make trips to a house that has become an over-priced storage unit,” Regina tells her while looking into Emma’s eyes like she needs Emma to understand _something._

 

And Emma does. Emma hasn’t made any move to actually move her stuff in. She hadn’t known that was an option, honestly. She had understood that Regina giving her the key meant she was allowed there, had known that Regina wanted her there, had thought of the house as home – but for some reason, actually moving her things in hadn’t felt like something she could do.

 

“I...” She sighs and works her fingers through her hair, brings it all away from her face and frowns up at the ceiling as she tilts her head back for a moment. “I thought you were just giving me the key because I’m always here and I might need it at some point if you guys weren’t home.”

 

“I did give you the key because you are always here, Emma. That is the point I am trying to make to you. You’ve already made yourself at home here.”

 

“I have,” Emma agrees, smiling softly when she looks at Regina. It makes the brunette’s shoulders loosen, and some of the color returns to her hands as she lets go of the counter.

 

“Is it because you believe it’s too soon?”

 

Emma can’t help the laugh that escapes her throat as she shakes her head. “I’d say we’re actually behind schedule.”

 

That makes Regina’s eyes narrow slightly. “I beg your pardon.”

 

Emma shakes her head again. “You know,” she says with a growing grin.

 

“I’m afraid I do not, dear.”

 

“Come on, the whole ‘what does a lesbian bring to the second date?’ thing.”

 

Regina looks at Emma as though she’s just grown an extra head. “What in the world are you talking about?”

 

Emma’s face drops. Regina can’t be serious. But Regina looks confused and like she thinks Emma might have bumped her head on something, so Emma’s pretty sure she is. “Seriously? You know, the joke, ‘what does a lesbian bring to the second date?’ A U-Haul...”

 

“A U-what?”

 

Emma sighs. “We need to get you out of make-believe town more often. It’s a moving truck. The joke is based on a stereotype that women in relationships with other women move quickly -- hence the moving truck that is being brought on the second date. It’s obviously just a stereotype and not all lesbians are rushing to move in together, not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, we all move at our own pace, you know, so...” Emma shrugs her shoulders, stops overexplaining before it gets embarrassing. Emma clears her throat and watches as Regina turns to the kettle that starts whistling. “I feel like we’ve gone off topic somewhere.”

 

"You don't say." There’s a sound that’s almost a snort that comes from Regina as she starts gathering items for tea. “If you’re finished comparing our relationship to those depicted–”

 

“Our relationship,” Emma repeats before Regina has finished what she’s saying.

 

“Would you like the definition of the word relationship, dear?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes at the back of Regina’s head. “No. I just–” She shrugs her shoulders, choosing not to explain how hearing the word relationship manages to clear a small doubt inside her head. “Never mind. Before I was trying to tell you that I don’t think it’s too fast. It’s not like I even spend more than thirty minutes at my house a week.”

 

“My point exactly,” Regina agrees.

 

“We really need to get you watching some lesbian films. I can’t have all my humor going right over your head,” Emma says thoughtfully.

 

Regina lets out a full laugh, a clear sign that she is all right, that  _they_ are all right. "You’d have to first acquire a sense of humor before it could go over my head, Emma.”

 

Emma gasps, holding a hand to her chest. “I’m offended. Take that back.”

 

“Nope,” Regina says, and the ‘P’ pops off her lips as they slowly roll together. Her eyes gleam as she eyes Emma up and down and then smiles softly at her. “Do I need to make my invitation for you to move in clearer, or do you understand what I am asking you?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “I think me and my lack of humor understood you just fine.”

 

“Good,” Regina breathes out happily. “Tea?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s a strange feeling, being completely ready to let go of something but still feeling like you need to hold on to it. Emma’s downstairs on the first floor of her house, looking around the living room which contains basically no evidence of her having ever lived there. There’s no personal touches, none that really count. The house reminds her of her time as a Dark One, and it reminds her of the hope she had let blossom in her chest when she thought about living with Hook. It had been a scary idea, settling down with someone, starting a life with them, but he had told her that he wanted her, and Emma liked being wanted, craved being wanted. But now all of that just made her angry and hurt and she wanted to be mad at him but more often than not found herself being mad at herself for believing they could be happy.

 

Here she is again, believing that someone wants her. But it’s different with Regina. Regina doesn’t turn on her the moment she does something wrong. Regina doesn’t push all the blame on Emma when they find themselves dealing with issues where they’re both at fault. Regina owns up to what she does, sometimes too much, refuses to let herself forget the bad she has done.

 

Emma shakes her head clear. There’s no reason to compare the two of them. In the end, Emma knows that whatever similarities they have don’t matter because there is one difference that stands out. Regina is good for her, but Hook wasn’t. Hook hurt her time and time again and she had spent too long trying to make things work when she should have been letting go. Regina has been healing her where she’s bruised and hurt and nobody’s ever taken the time to care for her.

 

Emma has been ready to move out of the house since the first night she came back to it, and she’s ready to make her living arrangements with her son and his other mother permanent. However, there’s still a part of her that’s having a difficult time giving up the house. She doesn’t want to live in it, doesn’t even want to be inside of it. But giving up her house means having nowhere to go if Regina wakes up one day and realizes she doesn’t want Emma there with her anymore.

 

If Regina wants to get rid of Emma, she won’t have the house to go to. She doesn’t think Regina will, _logically_ understands that Regina wants to be with Emma, but there is nothing logical about her fears.

 

A hand on the back of her shoulder pulls her away from her thoughts and she looks over that shoulder to find Regina standing there, her cheeks darkened with a flush, her hair clipped back. Emma smiles at her and leans back into the pressure of Regina’s hand.

 

“Everything all right?” Regina asks, rubbing her thumb from side to side over Emma’s long sleeve shirt.

 

Emma silently looks at Regina for a moment, looks at the woman who has given her a home and is now helping her move into it, who has given her warmth, has given her safety. Her heart swells in her chest and her head nods. She reaches behind her and cups the side of Regina’s face, watches the smile that easily grows on the brunette’s lips and nods her head again, more confident this time.

 

She leans back, her neck twisting, and lightly touches her mouth to Regina’s. She can feel the upturn of lips against hers and can’t stop herself from smiling in return as she slowly brushes her lips over Regina’s, feeling the breath that rushes past lips as Regina sighs. Emma slides her hand down to Regina’s neck and turns herself around so she can wrap her arms around the other woman.

 

“I’m more than all right,” she whispers, and the way Regina’s eyes practically glow in that moment is everything to Emma.

 

“Are you ready to go?” Regina asks as she winds her arms around Emma, her head tilted up slightly as she looks at Emma. “We can give you a few more minutes if you need it.”

 

Emma turns her head and looks around the living room, the furniture she’s leaving behind, the empty walls that had never held anything important to her. She doesn’t need this place, she decides right then. She turns back and leans forward and presses her mouth to Regina’s once again.

 

Regina chuckles low and deep, but she pulls Emma closer to her body and holds her there. It’s the most they’ve ever kissed at once, but it feels so very natural to Emma. She can feel the combination of their hearts beating in her chest and hands splayed out on her back, Regina’s heat spilling through the fabric of her shirt and spreading across her skin.

 

Regina’s soft lips wrap around her lower one and pull, rub, make Emma’s blood rush in her veins as her body sways into Regina’s and her mind spins. It’s incredible, and she can’t stop herself from moaning when there’s a light, teasing scrape of teeth on her lip before Regina pulls away and leans her chin on Emma’s shoulder. Their kiss turns into a hug, and Emma wraps her arms all the more tighter and exhales roughly against Regina’s neck.

 

“Wow,” she breathes out.

 

Regina’s shoulders shake as she laughs and hums with the joy and pleasure of the moment.

 

“Wow,” she whispers again, but this time it’s not because Regina’s mouth is pleasantly warm and soft and she can probably kiss it all day and not get tired of it. This time it’s because Regina is _beautiful_ , in that way that Emma doesn’t even need to be looking at her to see the light that pours out of her, even when she has so many shadows and dark spots. Regina is so beautiful, and Emma has no idea how she got this lucky.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Are we done here?” Henry asks with absolutely no patience when Regina and Emma return to the car with the last box from inside the house.

 

Emma rolls her eyes at the kid. “You have a hot date to get to that you didn’t tell me about or something?”

 

His cheeks flush and he looks away to hide his face. “Don’t even mention that word around _her_. She’s going to go all No Girl Is Good Enough For My Little Prince Mom on me, and you have no idea what that’s like, Emma.”

 

Emma laughs, looking over her shoulder to where Regina is closing the car trunk. “Maybe I should bring it up with her to find out,” she suggests slyly.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Henry says, grabbing onto her arm as she pretends to start walking away. His eyes are seriously pleading, like a mom who isn’t ready for him to have an interest in girls is the worst thing that could ever happen to him.

 

“Geez. Relax, kid. I’m sure there’ll be _plenty_ of chances for me to see that side of your mom in the near future.”

 

Henry groans miserably, knocking his head back on the top of the car. “I hope not.”

 

Emma snorts. “It’s part of growing up. She doesn’t want to see her little boy turn into a man. You need to stay little forever.”

 

“I’m not little now,” he tells her, puffing out his chest and looking her straight in the eye.

 

Emma pokes his puffed out chest with her forefinger and makes him deflate. He frowns at her, and Emma ruffles his hair. “Growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Things are going pretty good right now, aren’t they?” she asks, also her way of making sure he’s seriously okay with the way her relationship with Regina is developing, okay with her moving into the house for real.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says with a shrug – which, yeah, not really telling her much, but he’s not really full of enthusiasm these days, anyway.

 

“Well,” she tells him, leaning beside him on the car, her ankles crossed, “then how about you focus on enjoying your childhood. In a few years, you’re going to wish you had taken more time to enjoy just being a kid.”

 

He doesn’t look like he believes her, but he doesn’t say anything. She bumps her shoulder into his, and then he turns his head, grins at her, and bumps her shoulder back.

 

Regina comes over to them, smiling at them both. “Shall we head home?”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Where have you been?” Snow asks as Emma walks into the loft.

 

Emma’s looks behind her, to her left, to her right. “Me?” she questions, confused because she had sorta just shown up without calling or telling her mother she was coming over.

 

And then Snow seems to deflate when she realizes it’s Emma who has entered the apartment. (Which, yeah, not great for the self-esteem, Mom.) “Oh, Emma, honey, I thought you were your father. He was supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago so that I could meet Ashley for lunch. We’re having a- -” she covers the tiny ears of the child on her lap, “- -baby-free afternoon before our children drive us insane.”

 

Emma snorts and closes the apartment door. “I guess you don’t want to see me, then.”

 

Snow’s face falls, and then she shakes her head. “Nonsense. I always want to see you. Unless you too have started teething,” she says with a small snicker.

 

Emma smiles at her mother and walks into the kitchen to see if there’s anything to drink in the fridge.

 

“So, what’s going on? Is everything all right over at Regina’s?” she asks innocently, _too_ innocently.

 

Emma rolls her eyes as she pulls out a pitcher of something light pink. Snow is incredibly transparent. “What is this?” she asks, holding the pitcher out so Snow can see it from her seat in the living room area.

 

“Pink lemonade.”

 

“Ooh,” Emma says, reaching for a glass. Snow waits until Emma’s back next to the table before she smiles widely at her, eyebrow raised. Emma laughs into her glass. “Are you really this hungry for girl-talk?”

 

“When I’m not home with your brother, I’m surrounded by other children all day. I love them all, but it would be nice to sit with my daughter for a little while and hear about how things in her life are going.”

 

Emma plops down in a seat and takes a drink from her cup before putting it down. “Just until David gets here,” Emma says, not really protesting. After all, she had known what to expect when she decided to pay her mother a visit.

 

Snow gives a little squeal, one that Baby Neal cutely mimics, reaching up to grab Snow’s nose with his little fist. “Okay, so...”

 

Emma watches her mother and brother for a moment, a pull inside her chest that she sometimes still gets when she sees them interact. She swallows and clears her throat, not letting herself get lost in longing for something that’s impossible for her to have. She can’t go back and change the way things happened, so it’s best if she not think about wanting a childhood where her mother looked after her the way she does Neal. Everything that’s happened has brought them to where they are now, and Emma’s not sure she would want her life any other way.

 

“Well,” Emma drags out, trying to decide what to talk about.

 

Snow decides for her. “How are things at Regina’s?” she asks again in her too-innocent tone.

 

“I’m sure Henry’s already told you,” Emma says with a knowing look.

 

Her mother smiles guiltily. “But I haven’t heard it from you.”

 

Emma can’t keep the happiness out of her voice as she says: “I moved all of my things into the house. I officially live with Regina and Henry.”

 

“That’s wonderful,” Snow says like she’s been waiting for the longest to say those two simple words. “And? How is it? How are the two of you?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders a little. “We’re...” She remembers Regina falling asleep on her shoulder and Henry smiling over at them from his seat while they watched movies the night after they moved Emma’s stuff into the house.

 

“Oh, Emma, I’m so happy for you,” Snow says, even though Emma hasn’t said anything.

 

“Huh?” Emma asks, but then she realizes that she’s got a stupid grin spread across her cheeks and it’s so terribly obvious how she feels. Emma bites the corner of her lip and leans back so that she’s looking up at the ceiling, her legs stretched out. “I hope I don’t screw this up, Snow. Regina and I, we’ve gone from being on good terms to barely talking in the past before. I don’t want to do anything to–”

 

“Don’t spend too much time worrying about the potential for bad things to happen, sweetheart. If you spend all your time trying to make sure you’re not doing something that could possibly ruin your relationship with Regina, do you know what you’ll do?”

 

Emma sighs and nods. “I’ll ruin it anyway. I know.”

 

“What’s it like?” Snow asks after a moment of silence.

 

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s what like?”

 

“Your relationship with Regina. I mean–” Snow’s sigh makes Emma turn to look at her mother. She looks like she’s chewing over her words, trying to find the proper ones. “I know you don’t want us to pry, and we respect your wishes, Emma. As long as you’re happy, your father and I are happy for you.”

 

Emma smiles at her. “But you’re curious,” she fills in for Snow. Snow nods her head, rubbing her hand down Baby Neal’s back. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever had before,” she says honestly. “She’s both my best friend and the woman I–”

 

Emma’s stomach twists and her heart skips. She laughs in her throat and shakes her head at herself.

 

“The woman I love,” she says easily, and Snow’s face practically glows. “I don’t know. There’s just something about our relationship that’s easy. I mean, it took a lot for us to get here, and we’ve gone through a lot of crap. But, right now, just being with her, it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Even when I start to feel like maybe everything is too nice, you know, like I’m going to wake up and find out it was just my brain playing a joke on me or something, letting me think I could have something like this, even then, it’s still kinda perfect with her.”

 

Snow shakes her head in disbelief as she smiles widely. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so–”

 

“Happy,” Emma supplies.

 

“No. In love,” Snow tells her.

 

Emma closes her eyes and sighs softly. “You know, I’m not sure I ever have been. Not like this.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s been a week.

 

It’s Tuesday morning, and it has been a week since Regina gave Emma a key to the house; it's the third morning since she officially moved in.

 

Emma wakes up before Regina, not too long before her alarm is due to go off and wake the brunette up so she can get ready for work and then have coffee with Emma before meeting Snow and David for breakfast with Henry. Emma spends a lot of time thinking about how far she’s come with her family, but how far Regina has come with Emma’s parents doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s the little things that show how much has changed, like the breakfasts Regina doesn’t miss even when Emma’s not there – or when Henry’s not there, because he’d stayed home with Emma on her day off because of a 24-hour bug one day and Regina still went; she had shown up late, but she had still gone.

 

Emma turns over on her side and looks at the sleeping woman beside her. It’s ridiculous how someone can look so attractive when their hair is all over the place and there are red sleep lines on their cheek, when their mouth is open a little and they’re making noises that come out of their nose. But _God_ there is nothing not beautiful about Regina to Emma when she’s asleep. Sometimes Emma just lays beside her and looks at her, just looks. So much happens during the day that she has to remind herself to take advantage of every chance she gets to stop and admire the woman who has found a place in her heart and keeps it warm.

 

Emma reaches across the mattress and lightly touches her finger to the small scar on Regina’s lip. And because she can, she leans over and presses her mouth to it and kisses it softly. She pulls back, but she leaves her hand. She uses it to run a finger down the slope of Regina’s nose, over the bump, then down to her lips. Her skin looks so soft with the morning light touching it, and Emma just wants to feel, feel _Regina._

 

That desire to feel Regina against her fingers grows inside her with each passing second, makes her glance over to the alarm clock to check to see if it’s time for her to wake up yet. There are only four more minutes left, but Emma’s impatient. Emma’s fingers trace the line of Regina’s jaw and she wants to be able to do so much more than that. There are moments in their silence when Emma can’t help herself, where she just _needs_ so much from Regina. It scares her sometimes, honestly. She’s never needed with anyone else the way she does with Regina, never had such a strong pull making her reach out to another. The only thing that keeps her from letting that need bother her is knowing that Regina has the same need, knowing that there are times when Regina wants only to have Emma against her, touching her, holding her, and kissing her – a lot, Emma has happily discovered.

 

Emma rolls over onto her side and kisses where her fingers had just touched, brushes her lips over warm skin that smells like sleep. Her body moves closer to Regina’s without her having to put any thought into it. It’s where she belongs, right there beside Regina, pressed to her, warmth flowing from one body to another.

 

Regina’s on her side just like Emma is, so one of Emma’s leg ends up thrown over Regina’s while the blonde’s hand slides down from Regina’s face to her back. She keeps her touch light as she runs it first down Regina’s bare arm and then around her waist, across satin that sticks to Regina’s skin, and then holds it in the middle of the woman’s back. She wants to draw lines on Regina’s skin, and then she wants to go back over them and trace every dip and turn so she can memorize the way Regina’s body curves.

 

She can feel Regina starting to stir. Emma smiles and moves her head down to the warm spot between Regina’s shoulder and neck. It’s one of her favorite spots – _everywhere_ is her favorite on Regina, anywhere that is warm and soft and Emma gets to touch. But her neck is also one of Regina’s favorites, somewhere Regina enjoys having Emma’s fingers absently stroke when they’re in bed together, where Emma’s lips have kissed her and made Regina’s entire body shiver.

 

Gentle lips slowly glide over skin, Emma’s eyes closing as she shuts out the morning and hears, breathes, feels, _knows_ only Regina. Regina’s breath quickens subtly as Emma parts her lips across Regina’s neck and kisses her again, so softly that’s she’s barely touching the skin she’s tempted to just press her face against.

 

“Regina,” Emma whispers as she dances her lips over sleep-warm skin, knowing Regina’s waking up like she wants her to. This is only the third or fourth time she’s done this, woken Regina up with kisses, but she knows it works, knows Regina enjoys it as much as Emma does.

 

She hears it in Regina’s groan when she tilts her head ever so slightly. Emma’s leg rubs against Regina’s, bare skin touching, sliding. She mouths at Regina’s neck until she reaches her jaw. Her mouth craves the taste of every inch of Regina then, wants to discover the way she moans when Emma runs her tongue over smooth skin, hear the way her heart races when she sucks and nibbles. Emma’s hand fists Regina’s shirt and she forces herself not to go too far, not take more than what she’s already been given access to.

 

Emma drops a kiss below Regina’s ear and then leans up, her hips pushing into Regina. “Regina,” she whispers into her ear, letting her lips brush the delicate lobe as her warm breath teases the skin.

 

Suddenly there’s a hand on Emma’s back, digging into her flesh where her tank top has ridden up. “Emma?” Regina whispers raspily.

 

Emma’s heart is racing as she moves her head down and lets her nose rub against Regina’s jaw, against warm, warm skin that smells like all the things that relax Emma. “I miss you,” Emma whispers back to her.

 

A low hum forms in Regina’s throat, and then her hand slides up Emma’s back, fingers smooth and slow as they send pleasure spiraling around her spine. Emma wants to moan, wants to release the sound that feels like it started somewhere much deeper than her voicebox. Regina’s touch is like silk gliding against her skin, and _God_ , it feels amazing.

 

Regina moves back enough so that she can look at Emma, sleepy eyes dark and penetrating. Emma swallows and licks her lips, her heart racing as she waits to see what Regina’s going to do. Her chest burns like she’s holding her breath, and she realizes she’s barely breathing as she looks at Regina, as Regina looks at _her._ She’s never seen the look in Regina’s eyes before, not this heavy. She’s seen flashes of it when Regina let her eyes run over Emma’s body, but as they lay together in bed, already tangled up in each other, the look of desire, honest, open, _burning_ desire, is a powerful whirlpool that Emma is going to drown in.

 

Regina licks her lips slowly, her eyes dropping down to Emma’s mouth.

 

“Regina,” Emma whispers pleadingly. There’s too much heat between them. It’s going to suffocate Emma, going to swallow her whole. But she wants to feel Regina’s mouth on hers first, wants those soft, soft lips to kiss her and make her forget how to breathe.

 

Regina starts to lean forward.

 

Her eyes hold Emma’s, dark dark dark.

 

Her hand lightly scratches down Emma’s back.

 

Emma’s breath rushes out and her heart pounds like a drum.

 

Regina’s teeth run over her bottom lip, and Emma thinks _let me do that for you_ , and everything is happening too fast but not fast enough and oh my god, would Regina fucking kiss her before she explodes.

 

And Regina seems to sense Emma’s need because her eyes fall shut and Emma can feel Regina’s breath on her mouth and practically taste her lips and, and, and–

 

Then the fucking alarm clock goes off and Regina never makes it to Emma’s mouth.

 

“No,” Emma groans as Regina quickly turns out of her arms to turn off the loud alarm that beeps and beeps the sound of missed kisses.

 

Emma pulls Regina back to her the second the alarm clock is off and doesn’t even hope for the moment to return to what it had been. She buries her head in the crook of Regina’s neck instead and kisses her there.

 

Regina moans, though, moans without even trying to stop the sound from being heard, and Emma loses her fucking mind.

 

“I need to get ready to go,” Regina whispers, the regret in her voice just as heavy as the lust that had been in her eyes.

 

“I know,” Emma responds against Regina’s skin. She already knows she sets her alarm for the very last minute she can, knows that Regina gets up right after it goes off and needs to stick with her schedule or her whole day feels off.

 

“I don’t want to,” she admits, bringing a hand up to the back of Emma’s head.

 

“Then don’t.” Emma kisses Regina’s neck again, and when Regina hums, she grins and takes a small bite, clamping her teeth down on skin.

 

Regina’s fingers pull on her hair and her body moves like it’s controlled by an invisible wave that pushes it up into Emma. “Emma,” she moans, and it’s absolutely impossible not to imagine what Regina would sound like with Emma’s mouth getting to explore the rest of her body.

 

Emma pulls back and looks at Regina. “Stay in bed with me.”

 

Regina smiles at Emma and brings her hand to Emma’s cheek. “You know I can’t,” she says, but her eyes still burn with fire and hunger like she wants so badly to.

 

Emma nods and turns her head, knowing that she could probably push some more and get Regina to stay. But she won’t. She kisses the inside of Regina’s palm instead and then lowers her head and brushes her lips against Regina’s, not the kind of kiss they both want, too afraid she won’t be able to stop once she starts, but a kiss that floods her body with heat all the same.

 

Before she lets Regina get up, she slides her hand down to Regina’s butt and grabs it, making the brunette’s eyes go wide as she catches her lip with her teeth. “Think of me in the shower,” she whispers before gently pushing Regina away, winking at the woman who stares at her with hungry eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was lacking something, but there was kissing, and kissing kinda makes up for what's missing, yeah? Probably not. Anyway, thanks for reading!
> 
> Up next: morning kisses; gentle and lazy, humming in contentment, limbs still tangled together, hands wandering over soft exposed skin


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a moment to apologize to any of you who were offended/hurt by the last chapter (or anything I've written in this story). The conversation Regina and Emma had that surrounded the U-Haul joke was not meant to make it seem as though the characters were against lesbianism or found anything wrong with it, nor was it meant to be hurtful in any other way. If you were hurt by something I said/wrote, I am deeply sorry. It has been removed/altered, and hopefully I have not caused any hurt that cannot be reversed. 
> 
> I also wanted to thank everybody for sticking with this fic, reading/commenting/leaving kudos/recommending it (I see all of you over on Twitter - it's much appreciated). We're halfway through it, and it has been such a fun journey and I hope you're still enjoying it. 
> 
> Now we go to the 13k chapter that awaits...

**morning kisses; gentle and lazy, humming in contentment, limbs still tangled together, hands wandering over soft exposed skin**

 

Emma does _not_ think about Regina in the shower as she stretches out on the bed. She does _not_ imagine the way the shower water is running down Regina’s naked body, flowing over curves Emma knows intimately but hardly well enough. She does _not_ think about whether or not Regina is thinking about her, if she’ll allow herself a few extra moments to take care of the need Emma’s sure Regina had felt as strongly as Emma had – as Emma does. She does _not_ think about Regina’s hand sliding down between her legs and–

 

Emma groans and rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in Regina’s pillow and hating herself just a little bit for doing it because, dammit, it smells like Regina and that’s not what she needs when it feels like her body is pulsing _everywhere_. But she stays, too afraid of what she’ll do if she moves. She stays and fists her hands in the sheets beneath the pillow her head lays on. She will not move. She will not think. She will not touch anything – especially not herself.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Emma reminds herself that she at least has the day to herself, that she doesn’t have to work until after dinner. She can work off her sexual frustration, maybe go out to the garage and punch the punching bag she’d just set up on Sunday. Or maybe it’ll go away on its own and she can find something a little less physical to do. Emma mentally snorts at her thoughts because she already knows that it’s not going to just magically go away. She’ll either have to handle her sexual frustration the old fashioned way, or she’ll have to find a different outlet for all the pent-up energy in her body. She does have a list of things around the house that she noticed could use a little work. Regina would probably just fix them with magic, but Emma doesn’t mind tying her hair back and pulling out a hammer.

 

Yes, maybe she’ll do that, Emma’s thinking as she hears the shower water turning off.

 

A few moments later the door opens and Emma hears a quick low chuckle. “What on earth are you doing?”

 

Emma lifts her head – _big_ mistake – and gets a sight that definitely does not help the throbbing between her thighs that has only grown more noticeable with every passing moment she did nothing to alleviate it. Regina’s standing in front of the dresser with her hair clipped up and a towel wrapped around her body, her very naked body, her very naked body that still has water droplets clinging to it. The fluffy towel barely makes it to the middle of Regina’s thighs, and Emma’s eyes greedily try to take in every inch of visible skin as she bites on the inside of her lip to stop herself from saying something stupid. Because she’s pretty sure her brain stopped working the moment her eyes landed on the impossibly attractive woman who can make her jealous of a towel because it gets to be on her bare flesh.

 

Regina waves her hand back and forth to get Emma’s attention, saying something that Emma can’t hear over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

 

Emma forces herself to sit up in the bed, legs folded as her back leans against the upholstered headboard and she pulls a pillow into her lap. “Where are your clothes?” she asks with a low groan in her throat as her eyes sweep over Regina again. She just can’t help herself.

 

Regina gives her a strange look and then turns away from Emma and starts pulling drawers open and pulling things out of them. “I just came out of the shower. Was I supposed to be showering with them on?”

 

“Well, no,” Emma says slowly, watching the flex of Regina’s calves when she reaches for something. Her mouth feels as though it’s becoming drier. She clears her throat and leans her head back with a loud sigh. “But you’re, you know,” she says, waving her hands in front of her as she speaks, “ _naked._ ”

 

“You are aware that is how people normally shower, are you not?” Regina asks in a tone that makes it sound like she’s genuinely concerned about Emma’s thoughts on showers.

 

“Of course I am,” Emma responds with an eye roll. “But...” She sighs heavily.

 

Regina turns back around to look at Emma, in her arms expensive garments and items Emma refuses to think about in her current state. “But...? Am I making you uncomfortable, Emma?”

 

“Yes,” Emma groans out too quickly.

 

Regina flinches, clearly not having expected that answer. “Oh.” Her posture stiffens, shoulders tight. “Let me just–”

 

Emma realizes how her answer had been taken and quickly moves to correct the misunderstanding. “No, not like that,” she tells Regina. Her stomach feels heavy and tight as she shakes her head from left to right. “I mean, no. No. You’re–” Emma scratches behind her neck and squeezes her folded legs closer together, the motion not going unnoticed.

 

“Oh,” Regina says slower this time, the tension gradually leaving her bare shoulders.

 

Emma’s face burns and she clears her throat. “Yeah, you’re sorta very naked right now, and I’m _really_ turned on.”

 

She chuckles a little uncomfortably. They’ve never spoken about things like this before. There have been a few times Emma could tell Regina had been aroused around her, and she was sure Regina could probably read the signs in Emma when it was she who was turned on. There had been the moment before the shower, too. It has been acknowledged in a way, in their way, but they’ve never actually spoken about the shared desire that is building between them.

 

It’s that very same desire that flashes in Regina’s eyes at the sound of Emma’s admission. She looks like she might pounce and attack, like Emma’s the prey the animal inside of her has been after. Regina looks as though she already knows ten different ways to make Emma loose her mind to sweet, sweet pleasure and she’s considering where she wants to start as she slowly moves her eyes over the visible parts of Emma’s body.

 

Emma has never felt more wanted than she does in that moment, has never felt her body _ache_ so badly before just from having someone’s eyes on her. She digs her nails into the pillow on her lap and hisses out, “Fuck. Don’t look at me like that.”

 

Regina jumps slightly, clears her throat, licks her lips, and then waves her free hand towards the door. “Go make sure Henry’s awake, will you, dear? And start the coffee?”

 

Emma agrees with a quick head nod. Putting some space between them will do her some good, she thinks. And now that the air smells only of Regina’s body wash, the steam from the shower carrying its scent, Emma can definitely use a little space. But when she’s out of bed and she needs to pass Regina to grab a pair of pants to throw on, space is the last thing on her mind. Perhaps she likes to torture herself.

 

“Emma,” Regina warns as Emma pushes her up against the wood dresser she’s still standing in front of.

 

Emma puts both of her hands on the top of the furniture, one on either side of Regina’s petite frame. “I think I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t kiss you,” Emma whispers with a slight chuckle shaking her words.

 

Regina’s eyes quickly dart down to Emma’s lips before moving back up to Emma’s eyes. “You’re going to be in so much trouble later,” Regina growls, making no move to get away or reiterate her words from earlier about needing to get ready.

 

Emma shivers and pushes her thigh up against Regina’s, tries not to think about how the only thing separating her from Regina’s naked body is a towel she could easily remove with a sharp tug. She leans her head in and their noses touch before Emma moves to rub her cheek against Regina’s warm face. She can feel Regina’s shaky exhale on her skin, feel the way Regina is crumbling and melting from the contact. Emma’s blood rushes.

 

Regina’s hips push forward and Emma feels the clothes she had been holding fall down between their feet. “Don’t make me wait for it,” Regina orders impatiently, sliding her hand into Emma’s hair and lightly pulling her so their lips are almost touching instead of their cheeks.

 

Emma moans and surges forward without a moment of hesitation after that. The sound that Regina makes when Emma’s lips are on her is a thing of beauty, all low and pleased and throaty. Emma’s breath catches when she hears it, and then she pushes her body into Regina’s, pressing her into the hard surface behind her while Emma’s lips stroke over her malleable mouth.

 

Regina’s head tilts back a little, and Emma pushes closer, turning her head and running her tongue between soft lips that part for her instantly. Her head spins when Regina’s tongue meets hers, lightly flicks out and then strokes the muscle that Emma has slowly slid into her mouth. Regina kisses Emma like she’s both starved for it and perfectly content, like she wants so much more from Emma but enjoys the slow strokes and tender nibbles against her lips so much that she doesn’t want those to stop.

 

Warm hands slide around Emma, underneath her shirt, and Emma hears herself moaning into Regina’s mouth when they start drawing nonsensically into her flesh. Regina doesn’t play fair, knows Emma’s brain already short-circuits when Regina strokes her sides and back. She can’t handle both that and kissing, not when she knows she’s already working on borrowed time and the moment will end too soon and she will be left wanting.

 

Her lips slide over Regina’s once more, feeling the delicious warmth of her mouth and buzzing everywhere because of it. She pulls Regina’s lower lip between her lips and sucks on it, lightly adding the pressure of her teeth when Regina moans and her hips roll into Emma. _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_. Emma takes one of her hands off the dresser and brings it to Regina’s towel-clad body. She wants to touch her, _needs_ to touch her.

 

Regina pulls away from Emma’s mouth, breath heavy, and kisses her way to Emma’s ear, nipping a few times before she pants against Emma’s skin. “You are horrible. Are you aware of that?” she breathes out, but it’s with a breathless chuckle as she shamelessly rubs herself against Emma again.

 

Emma groans and slides her hand up to Regina’s breast, the fluffy towel keeping her from feeling the soft skin she knows is underneath even though she’s never gotten the chance to touch Regina there before. And it’s a good thing she doesn’t try right then because the brunette’s basically putty in her hands with her touching her over the towel, and Emma’s not sure she could handle what would happen if they were touching skin to skin.

 

Regina bites Emma’s earlobe and makes her hiss. “I have to _work_ this morning.” Emma squeezes her breast, and Regina whimpers and holds Emma closer to her, hands splayed out on her back. “Do you have any idea how hard it will be trying to concentrate when I’m still going to be able to feel the way you are touching me right now?”

 

“Fuck,” Emma breathes out, and then, “fuck,” again when Regina’s hips roll into her and she feels herself pushing back into Regina, the towel slipping open so that Emma feels more of Regina’s smooth skin on her thigh.

 

Regina seems to allow herself one more moment and then pushes Emma away from her. Her eyes are wild and dark, and Emma’s pretty sure they could burn her alive. She clears her throat and tries to sound like she’s in control of the moment, but all Emma hears is the huskiness of her voice that is just about the sexiest thing ever. “Out. I expect the coffee to be ready when I get downstairs.”

 

Emma licks her lips and bends down to gather Regina’s forgotten clothes. After passing them to Regina, she gets a pair of pants, slides them on, and then exits the bedroom, hearing Regina’s heavy exhalation through the closed door.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Henry’s already in the shower when Emma goes to his bedroom to wake him up, so she makes her way down the curved staircase and goes to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The floor is cold on her bare feet as she moves around the room, but it’s not as cold as the air that rushes out of the freezer when she opens the door and stands in front of it. Her skin feels overheated, burns like she has been in the sun all day. But soon goose bumps are appearing on her arms and she doesn’t feel like she’s just stepped out of a sauna.

 

She stands there in front of the opened freezer until she hears footsteps outside of the kitchen door, and then she shuts the door and goes to get down two mugs for her and Regina. “Morning, kid,” she says to her son when he pushes through the kitchen door, yawning loudly.

 

“Hey, Ma,” he greets, practically falling into the stool that he pulls out at the island. “I’m so tired,” he groans.

 

Emma smiles over her shoulder as he rubs roughly at his face. “Up late reading,” she guesses.

 

“Yeah,” he admits, holding his head up on one of his hands. “But don’t worry. I went to bed at a semi-reasonable time. I just didn’t sleep through the night.”

 

Regina had brought home a stack of comic books for him the night before, a “just because” kind of thing that had made Emma smile as she watched Regina and Henry have a deep conversation about whichever comics she had purchased for him. Emma had sat in one of the armchairs across the coffee table and read through the first chapter of a book her own mother had gushed over and told her she needed to read. (Emma’s not sure she’s going to be able to get past the first chapter. It didn’t exactly pull her in or anything like that.)

 

“Anything going on? You haven’t said anything about sleeping problems before,” Emma asks as she puts the mugs down on the counter and walks over to the island, taking the stool to his right.

 

“Sleeping issues,” Regina says as she pushes through the door a moment later, sounding worried.

 

Henry tilts his head back and smiles at her. “Yeah, it’s nothing, promise. Just bad dreams.” He shrugs his shoulders as though the entire situation bores him. “Overactive imagination. You two wouldn’t understand. It’s a writer’s thing.”

 

Emma chuckles beside him. “Oh really, kid?”

 

Regina actually looks a little offended for a second before she shakes her head and smiles at him affectionately. She moves over to him, her heels clicking against the kitchen floor. She brushes his hair from his forehead and presses a loving kiss there. “My little prince,” she whispers wistfully, and there’s a look in her eyes when she pulls away that shows how aware she is that her little boy is quickly growing up.

 

Emma pouts at Regina when she starts walking away from them. “Hey, where’s mine?” She taps her forehead with her fingers.

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “I think you’ve had more than your fair share this morning, don’t you, dear?”

 

Henry’s nose scrunches up beside Emma. “Ewww.”

 

Emma bumps her shoulder into his and leans over and noisily kisses his cheek, and then his temple, and then his forehead. He squirms away, and Emma laughs and wraps her arm around him. She doesn’t kiss him often, not much at all compared to Regina, but moments like these call for a little extra affection. “What? I thought you were feeling left out.”

 

Henry pretends to be annoyed with her, and it lasts three whole seconds before he’s rolling his eyes with that smile on his face that he reserves for his two mothers, that smile that is all happy and little kid still, _their_ kid. Emma’s heart swells when she sees it, and her eyes glance over to Regina to see that she must be feeling the same thing Emma is, that rush of _family_ and love and _this is mine, ours._

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Up for lunch?**

 

Emma puts her phone down on the bathroom counter and picks up her screwdriver as she waits for an answer. So far she’s replaced the light bulb in the attic, gotten rid of the creak in the basement door, changed the batteries in all the remotes, fixed the times on the clocks since some of them were several minutes off, and now she’s fixing the cabinet door in the downstairs bathroom. It’s been a productive morning.

 

Her phone vibrates and she quickly sits up to get it, and then bumps her head in the process. “Oh crap,” she hisses, rubbing the top of her head with one hand and reaching her phone with the other.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I don’t think I’ll have the time for a proper lunch this afternoon. I had an emergency meeting with the school board, and that pushed most of my meetings to later times. Thankfully, some of them were rescheduled for another day entirely. It looks as though this will be a long day for me.**

 

Emma frowns as she reads Regina’s text message.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Want me to still bring you something? You need to eat.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I have the trail mix you snuck into my drawer last week, Emma. I will be all right.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Are you sure?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Yes, dear.**

 

Emma’s working on a reply when another text comes through, and then another after that.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Thank you.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Raincheck?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Of course.**

 

Emma smiles as she puts her phone down, ready to get back to get to work. However, surprising Emma, another text message comes through.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I look forward to it. I’ll see you when I get home.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Try not to miss me too much until then.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I won’t.**

 

Emma grins at her phone, at the response Regina always gives her. She can almost see the smile that always grows on Regina’s lips when she says that. It makes Emma hum to herself as she picks up her screwdriver and gets back to her work around the house.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Tell me again why I agreed to this,” Regina mutters under her breath as she brushes her hair back and then pulls it through the elastic band she takes from Emma’s outstretched hand.

 

“Because you really, really, really like me,” Emma says with a grin she knows Regina finds cute simply because the brunette can’t keep the twinkle out of her eyes as she rolls them.

 

“That’s a few too many reallys, don’t you think?” Regina asks, gently gripping Emma’s chin and pecking her lips before walking away and out of the bathroom.

 

“Nope,” Emma disagrees, following Regina into the bedroom. “I know how much you like me. You don’t have to pretend you don’t. You’re not that good at it, anyway. You never really were.”

 

Regina hums as she pulls the shirt she’d slept in off over her head, her back to Emma.

 

“Whoa. How about a warning next time before you start taking clothes off?”

 

“Seriously?” Regina raises her eyebrow while looking over the curve of her shoulder. “In the– what has it been? A month? In the month the two of us have spent sleeping together in this room, do you know how many times you have undressed in front of me?”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s me,” Emma says like there’s a huge difference in her undressing and Regina undressing.

 

“By the end of your first week sleeping here, I had already seen more of your body than I’ve seen of any other adult that I was not in a romantic relationship with.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Emma says with a cheeky grin.

 

Regina twists her lips together like she’s trying to keep herself from smiling. “My point is,” she starts as she picks up the sports bra from the bed and pulls it on over her head, adjusting it with her back still to Emma, “I find it difficult to believe you have an issue with partial nudity when it seems to be the state you are most comfortable in.”

 

Emma chews on her lip, sitting in the armchair across from the door as she waits for Regina to be ready. “There’s a difference between me being partially undressed and _you_ , I Could Be A Goddamn Model If I Wanted Regina Mills, being partially undressed.”

 

Regina doesn’t respond with more than a shake of her head. She grabs the rest of her clothes – Emma’s clothes, really – off the bed and then heads back to the bathroom, stopping in front of Emma and looking her over slowly before pecking her lips again.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“God, you look hot,” Emma blurts out when Regina exists the bathroom, looking up from her cell phone.

 

Regina’s nose scrunches up and she plucks at the sleeveless white shirt she’s wearing with a pair of Emma’s running leggings. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “Does it sound like I am? Seriously. I may be a little biased–”

 

Regina scoffs. “My dear, you are more than a little biased when it comes to my looks.”

 

Emma smiles stupidly and forgets what she was even going to say. There’s just something about Regina calling her my dear that makes her entire body tingle with warmth. Instead of continuing what she was going to say, she watches Regina move around the bedroom, getting ready to go out for the run Emma had persuaded her to join her on. Thursday mornings Emma gets up a little early and goes for a run, and this Thursday she’s going to have a running partner with her. She had also invited Henry, but he had looked at her like she had suggested the most inane thing he had ever heard when she told him how early they would have to get up.

 

“Did you schedule Henry’s dentist appointment for next week like I asked?” Regina asks as she bends down for something. Emma’s a little too busy looking at Regina’s butt to hear the question, though. Regina turns around to look at her, confusion on her face for a moment before it fades and a small smirk crosses her lips. “You are most likely the least subtle person I have ever met,” she says with a shake of her head.

 

“Didn’t know I needed to hide that I like your body,” Emma says in a challenging tone, lifting her brow.

 

“I honestly don’t believe you would be able to if it was what I expected of you,” Regina says knowingly.

 

Emma gives her a shrug and licks her lips. “When you buy your own workout clothes, you should, uh, stick with leggings. They look good on you.”

 

“So you can stare at my butt the entire time?”

 

“Motivation to keep running...”

 

Regina lets out a soft, warm laugh. “I’ll think about it.”  

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma used to run as an outlet for her stress and negative emotions. Back before she came to Storybrooke, four or five times a week was normal for her. Since moving to Storybrooke and settling into a life where she is the sheriff/savior/one of the town’s go-to people whenever something is threatening their peace, Emma’s routine has become nearly impossible to keep. She has just started her Thursday morning runs a few weeks ago. She’s found an entirely different way to deal with her stress lately, but she had missed the way her body felt after a good run. She had missed that rush she gets after pushing herself a little further than she had before, missed the way her heart pumps quickly and her mind clears for a little while.

 

Running with Regina, Emma learns, is even more enjoyable than running by herself. Regina’s quiet when Emma just wants to focus on the thumping of their sneakers on the ground and the morning silence, the stillness of everything around them as they run. But she’s also competitive and can be the verbal shove Emma needs to pick up her pace when she starts slacking, the teasing that makes her roll her eyes and grin before showing Regina which of the two of them is actually faster – obviously Emma.

 

They run all the way from the house to the docks, and then they run a little while longer. “Wanna stop up at the benches?” Emma asks, glancing over to Regina. She’s getting tired, even if she’s too proud to admit it. She’d kept up with Emma the entire way, but Emma can hear it in the pattern of her breaths that she’s pushing herself too much, that she needs to slow down and rest for a moment.

 

“Getting tired, Swan?”

 

Emma chuckles, her breath heavy. “Maybe,” she tells her because she is getting a little tired, but she’s more worried about Regina than she is herself. Regina doesn’t answer her, so Emma shouts, “Race you,” before putting a little extra power in her steps.

 

And Regina really can’t ignore a challenge, so she does the same and soon they’re at the benches, both of them breathing heavily as they fall down beside each other. Regina laughs as she tilts her head back and looks up at the blue sky, her hand on her chest, her skin damp with sweat. Emma does the same, letting out a loud breath and knocking her knee against Regina’s.

 

“I don’t even know which one of us won.”

 

“I did,” Regina pants out.

 

Emma turns her head to face Regina. Her chest is still rising and falling quickly with her breaths, and Emma’s eyes shamelessly follow the rhythm of her breathing before moving up to Regina’s neck and face. She’s flushed and sweaty and Emma’s been imagining Regina exactly that way too much lately for her not to stare. Regina notices – Regina always notices – but she doesn’t say anything.

 

“You should get a prize,” Emma says absently after too many moments have gone by for her comment to make much sense. She realizes that and licks her lips and finally looks away from Regina and back to the clear sky. “For winning. You should get a prize.”

 

Regina doesn’t say anything for a long moment, so Emma doesn’t think she will. But then Regina shifts beside her and says, “Have dinner with me.”

 

Emma’s brow wrinkles a little while she’s looking out the corner of her eye. “We have dinner together every night. That’s what you want?”

 

Regina gives her one of those _keep up with me, Emma_ looks.

 

“Oh. You mean...” Emma sits up fully and wipes the sweat off her temples. She feels gross and sweaty and like her face is probably red, nothing like what she thinks she should look like when being asked out by someone – especially not someone who looks incredible all the time. But she can’t keep the wide grin off her face. “A date. You’re asking me out on a date. Wait. You _are_ asking me out on a date, right?”

 

A slow smile starts to grow on Regina’s lips. “Yes, I am asking if you would allow me to take you out on a date.”

 

“A date,” Emma repeats, like the word is magic and she’s just discovered it exists – except maybe not, because finding out magic existed wasn’t anything like Regina asking her out to dinner. Regina wanting to take her out on a date would be more like learning she could fly, because magic had been a littler terrible and scary at first, but damn, if someone were to tell her she can fly, Emma would be up in the air before they even finished getting their words out. “A date.”

 

“While I can tell you are not against the idea, I would appreciate an actual response sometime soon.”

 

“Oh,” Emma says, flushing a little from embarrassment. She scratches the back of her neck and clears the wonderment out of her voice and plays it cool. “Yeah, cool, cool, a date. I could do dinner. I mean, we’ve gotta eat, right? I’d like to do that. Go on a date with you, not eat dinner. Well, I want to eat dinner, too,” she rambles and then drops her head down into her hands and groans.

 

Play it cool, she says. Ramble like an idiot, she does.

 

“I mean–”

 

“Friday night of next week?” Regina asks, and there’s a smile in her voice that makes Emma’s heart beat quickly.

 

Emma lifts her head and nods, decides to keep her mouth shut. Nodding excitedly isn’t as bad as the possibility of saying something stupid.

 

Regina places her hand on Emma’s and gives it a gentle squeeze. Emma’s nerves settle and she breathes out, still smiling at Regina.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma hisses as she burns her finger on the curling iron. It’s the third time, and she’s only been curling her hair for three or four minutes. She hasn’t been this nervous for a date since... Well, Emma’s _never_ been this nervous for a date, ever. She hasn’t dated many people in her life that she planned on having a lasting relationship with, and she’s definitely never gone on a first date with someone she’d already grown comfortable with like she has with Regina. It should be easier this way, she thinks, but all she’s been able to think about is what will happen if the date is terrible. What if she does something stupid and ruins it all and Regina decides they aren’t as compatible as they’ve been thinking they are? God, that would kill Emma.

 

She burns her finger again and swears under her breath. _Pull yourself together right now!_

 

“Don’t tell me I have to do it with you too,” she hears come from outside of the bathroom.

 

Emma finishes with the section of hair she’s working on, lets the curl bounce as she pulls the wand away from it, and then she turns to look at her son. He’s leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with those careful eyes of his that are far too good at reading people, especially her. “Do what with me too?”

 

He sighs and pushes off the wall and walks over and sits down on the closed toilet seat. “Don’t tell her I told you, but Mom might be freaking out a little bit. And from the number of times you’ve burnt your finger since I’ve been standing there, I think it’s safe to assume that you are as well.”

 

“I’m not freaking out, kid,” she says, voice too high-pitched for her words to be honest. His _sure you’re not_ look says as much. “I’m not,” Emma insists.

 

“Mom said the same thing – while she was wearing shoes that didn’t even go together, like at all. If this is what it’s like being an adult, then you’re right, I don’t want to be one. You’re practically married already and you’re both acting like you’re getting ready to go out with strangers,” he sighs like dealing with his mothers getting ready for a date is the most draining thing he’s ever had to do.

 

Emma sighs, knowing he has a point but unable to admit it completely to either of them. “It’s not that simple, Henry,” she says as she starts back on her hair.

 

“Isn’t it, though? You live with Mom. You sleep with Mom. You kiss Mom. You are really gross, both of you, with how obviously in love with each other you are.”

 

“Henry–”

 

“You sacrificed yourself for her, Emma,” he says gently, but not without a ton of emotion in his voice. “That’s love. How many people do you think have done something like that for her before?”

 

Emma frowns, turning her head to look at him. It’s weird how much he can look like Regina when they’re not biologically related, but it makes her heart warm when she sees little parts of Regina in their son. The serious look he’s giving her, that _think, Emma_ look is all Regina, is the exact same look Regina gives her sometimes.

 

“Have you told her?” he asks her curiously.

 

Emma blinks and clears her head, looking back to the mirror so she doesn’t fall behind schedule. “Have I told her what?” Emma questions.

 

“That you love her,” he says, the silent _duh_ making her smile a little even as her nerves go crazy inside her belly.

 

“No,” Emma says simply.

 

“Has Mom told you?”

 

“She doesn’t–” _need to tell me_ , she tries to say.

 

He groans loudly. “Must I point out _everything_ for the two of you?”

 

“Jesus, kid. When did you get so–” She waves her hand at him, not finding the words to explain what she’s trying to ask about her son that is so obviously a teenager now.

 

She can see him shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Ma, Mom loves you. You love Mom. The two of you are in love!”

 

Emma snorts even though she’s starting to feel a little sick. She’s never handled nervousness well, and it’s starting to feel too hot in the bathroom. “Why are you so invested in your mothers’ romantic lives?”

 

“Because I want you both to be happy, and I haven’t seen Mom happier than she has been since you’ve been staying here with us. I haven’t seen you this happy either.” He sighs. “That has to mean something, right?” He sounds younger as the question leaves his mouth, like the kid Emma wants him to always be instead of the young adult he is becoming too quickly.

 

She puts her curling iron down and turns to face him completely. “Your mother and I are happy right now. And you’re right, I haven’t been happier than I am with the two of you and with the way things are with our family. But sometimes you just need to let things happen on their own, okay? Pushing people to see or feel things before they’re ready can cause more harm than good sometimes. You have to let people move at their own pace. All right? Your mother and I will express whatever feelings we have for each other when we choose to.”

 

Henry looks like he wants to argue against something she’s said, but he nods at her instead. “All right. You’re right.”

 

Emma smiles and ruffles his hair. “You need a haircut, kid.”

 

He brushes it back the way it was and says, “I like it.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“I’ll get it,” Emma calls out from the guest room she’d used to get ready in, grabbing her heels from the floor and then shutting off the light and hurrying to get the door.

 

She’d put in a little – a lot of – extra effort into getting ready for her date with Regina, and she hadn’t wanted the other woman to see her until it was time for them to go. She still isn’t sure where they are going, but Regina had told her it wouldn’t be a bad idea for her to class it up a bit. (Well that’s not exactly what she said, but Emma could read between the lines.)

 

Emma had gone through her New York wardrobe and picked out a dress she had bought but never had the chance to wear. (She’s glad she didn’t waste it on a flying monkey.) Regina has only seen her wearing a dress once or twice since they’ve known each other (the modern kind, at least), but Emma is quite confident that she is a fan.

 

Emma had gone through a mental checklist – because a physical one sounded like overkill and too much work – and hadn’t given herself a stamp of approval until she had ticked off everything on the list. Makeup: lashes, eyeliner, light blush, soft pink lipstick with a little gloss. Her hair is curled and put in a high updo that took too much time in the mirror with bobby pins and careful fingers; never again, she promises, ever. But it is a must for tonight to go with the black dress that dips low on her back, showing off the indent where her spine is and her shoulder blades – which she _knows_ Regina will appreciate. The front isn’t all that special compared to the back that really makes her back look sexy in a way she didn’t even think was possible. But her arms are bare and her biceps look fantastic, and once she puts on her pumps, her legs will look even longer than they are.

 

All in all, Emma thinks she looks better than she has in a long time, and she’s hoping Regina will think the same thing.

 

At the door, Emma pauses to slip on her shoes, adding four and a half inches to her height and taking a moment to get used to the feeling. It’s been a while, but despite the fact that she prefers her boots with short heels, Emma prefers a high heel with a platform when she has a reason to actually wear heels.

 

When Emma opens the door, her eyes are assaulted by a bright flash that makes her almost lose her balance.

 

“Mom!”

 

“Your father is missing it all. I have to get pictures,” she says, taking a second one before Emma can protest – or even consider actually posing for the picture so it doesn’t come out looking horrible. “Look at you! You look so beautiful, honey,” Snow gushes a moment later, walking into the foyer and shutting the door for Emma.

 

Emma brushes her hands down her dress and forgets about being mad about her mother almost ruining her eyesight. “Thank you,” she says instead with a genuine smile as her mother looks her over with an approving look that warms Emma’s chest.

 

“Of course,” Snow says, reaching up and tucking a curl of Emma’s hair back into place with that proud look Emma had always wondered if mothers really got in their eyes like they did in movies and TV shows. Snow has given her that look several times already since she’s walked into the house. “Where’s Regina? And Henry?”

 

Emma walks her mother up the foyer steps and into the living room. “Henry’s getting the last of his things ready. Regina is... I guess she’s still getting ready. Are you sure you and David are really up for two nights with the kid?”

 

“Of course we are,” she says as she sits down and glances around the room, a little smile crossing her lips as she looks at the horse art above the mantle. “We’ve been wanting to offer to take him for a weekend for a while now,” she admits with a sheepish smile. “David really enjoys having another guy around the house, and I always love having an extra person to cook for and look after.”

 

“You’re such a mom,” Emma says with a smile as she glances towards the stairs when she hears Henry’s telltale footfalls. “And there goes Henry.”

 

“Mom’s coming,” he says before he even makes it down the stairs and into the room where Emma and Snow are sitting.

 

Snow perks up with her camera, and Emma laughs. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

 

“We want pictures of both of you, and so will the two of you. Trust me. This is a day you’re going to want to remember,” Snow says as she hurries up from her seat.

 

“It’s a date, not our wedding.”

 

Snow ignores her and leaves the living room, Henry following. Emma follows the two of them, taking a deep breath and then slowly letting it out as she lifts her head and looks towards the staircase.

 

The flash doesn’t appear when Regina does, and Emma has a second to notice it’s because Snow’s smiling at Regina with a similar, yet slightly different, look she had given Emma.

 

Emma doesn’t blame her, can’t pick her jaw up off the floor when Regina slowly walks down the stairs. Emma’s not even sure where to look, only that she wants to look _everywhere_. As she descends the stairs, the two sides to her wrap dress part enough in the front to show off skin and shapely legs and thighs that Emma’s hands are always eager to caress. The oxblood dress fits her like a glove, holding all her curves and pinching at her waist on one side. The V-neckline is where Emma’s eyes linger too long, where she’s looking when she feels her pulse race a little.

 

“Close your mouth, dear. It’s rude to stare,” she says as she passes Snow with one of those eye rolls she saves for Snow that hold absolutely no true annoyance and make Snow beam. God, she’s putty in Regina’s hand, Emma thinks. And then Regina’s finger is under her chin, making her close her mouth. “The same goes for you.” And she receives her own eye roll and grins stupidly, and maybe _everybody_ is putty in her hands.

 

And then the flash comes, when Regina is smiling at Emma’s grin and they’re not expecting it.

 

.

 

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.

 

The restaurant Regina takes her to is probably the best fine dining Storybrooke has to offer. It doesn’t look as though it’s stuck in the eighties, and Emma finds out that’s because the owner didn’t open the restaurant until after the curse had been broken. Joseph had been a cook in Regina’s castle and is the best they have in the restaurant business, according to Regina. Emma was always a little fascinated when Regina spoke about people who she had thought well of during her time as the Evil Queen. She doesn’t know what it took to earn Regina’s respect back then, but there were people who had, and Joseph was one of them.

 

The restaurant is close to the water and has incredible views, but none of the tables have a view better than the one Regina and Emma have been brought to. In the back of the restaurant, there is a metal spiral staircase that leads to a second level with a few tables and large windows that face the ocean. Only one table is set up, and after pausing to take in the candles around the room and the tablecloth-covered table that is beside one of the windows, Emma’s surprised eyes move to Regina. Regina’s looking at the exposed brick walls with more interest than anyone should ever have for a wall, though.

 

“If you two will just follow me this way,” they young gentleman who had brought them to the back says, heading to their table.

 

Regina glances at Emma and then places her hand on the small of her back. They’re given menus that he calls special and then a cart with an opened bottle of wine is pulled over and they’re served the red wine before he tells them he’ll give them some time and he’ll be back.

 

Emma waits until they’re alone to get up from her seat and go directly to the window beside them, eyes greedily taking in the incredible view. She’s lived in a few places that had decent views, but nothing will ever beat the view of the ocean from a window. It looks like it stretches on and on and never stops, and from where they are, Emma can see the waves crashing into stones and large rocks. She feels a little silly about how excited it gets her, how something as simple as a view of the water has already made this the best date she’s ever been on.

 

She remembers telling Regina about her love of the ocean, though, knows Regina didn’t just pick a random restaurant or bring her to the best in town. She remembers stupid dreams of one day being able to have a beach house or a condo on a high floor that was right on the beach. She remembers this and looks over her shoulder with a stupid wide smile, because how is it that Regina does this, listens to everything she says even when she doesn’t think anyone would find what she’s saying all that important?

 

Regina reaches for her glass of wine and takes a sip, holding Emma’s stare. She waits a moment before licking her lips and clearing her throat. “I hope this isn’t too much. The opportunity presented itself, and I knew– I thought you might like it here. I only wanted to share this night with you, so it’ll just be us up here for the evening.”

 

“I do,” Emma assures her easily, hearing the nervousness in Regina’s voice that she’s trying to hide. “I can’t believe you went through the trouble to make this happen,” she says, because the restaurant had been packed downstairs, so she knows they could use the space up here and the rest of the tables. She thinks she should feel guilty, but she can’t.

 

Regina waves her off. “It wasn’t much trouble at all, dear. The menu, however...”

 

Emma’s eyebrow raises with intrigue. “The menu?”

 

Regina sits back in her chair with her glass and gives her a single nod. “Have a look at it.” Her voice is smoky and low as she waits, her eyes on Emma’s every move.

 

Emma reaches for the menu and carefully flips it over, flicking her eyes over to Regina before looking at the back of the menu. An eyebrow lifts when she sees grilled cheese on it, and then she continues scanning and sees macaroni and cheese. “This can’t be what he serves here,” Emma says aloud, starting to laugh.

 

“Tonight and for you, for us, it is. Emma Swan, tonight I am going to teach the child in you how to eat your favorites like an adult.”

 

A half-grin appears on Emma’s lips. “Mac and cheese with lobster,” she reads aloud, and then, “macaroni with gruyère cheese and ja–”

 

“Jamón serrano,” Regina pronounces perfectly.

 

Emma bites her lip as the words roll off Regina’s tongue. She then takes a seat, scanning the short list of items with explanations of what’s inside the dishes. “This all sounds delicious,” she says, and her stomach rumbles a little in agreement.

 

“Well, I’m happy to hear you say that because we will be trying everything. You don’t have any allergies, do you? I should have–”

 

“Green foods. Kale, spinach – lettuce is fine...”

 

Regina tries to give her an unamused look, but her laugh can’t be held back and she ends up laughing as her eyes twinkle, looking at Emma. “Any _real_ allergies, my dear?”

 

“No, ma’am. I can definitely try- -” she scans the menu again, “- -everything. Yep, definitely everything.”

 

.

 

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.

 

There is a lot of cheese. There is a lot of cheese, and there is a lot of laughter. When Regina’s biting into one of the small pizzas that Emma holds up to her, the melted cheese just pulls and pulls and Emma can’t stop laughing as Regina tries not to make a mess with food that is terribly messy and stringy. Her stomach feels tight and warm, and there’s a delicate blush coloring Regina’s skin by the time the she’s finally managed to bite the rope of cheese in half. It gets on her chin and lips, and Emma quickly puts the pizza down before reaching for her phone with her clean hand as she licks the thumb of the one that had been holding the pizza.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Regina growls, reaching for her napkin.

 

“Snow wants pictures,” Emma says, and she’s still laughing, an almost quiet chuckle as she unlocks her phone.

 

“Snow can’t always get what she wants. If you take that picture, I will make sure you regret it.”

 

Emma puts her phone down on the table and holds her hands up in a sign of giving in. “I’ll behave, no need to threaten me on our first date, Madam Mayor,” she teases.

 

“But it appears to get the job done rather nicely,” Regina says while wiping her face clean from all signs of sauce and cheese, smirking once she’s finished.

 

Emma hums in semi-agreement as she reaches for her wine, not taking her eyes off of Regina as she drinks it. The candlelight flickers around them and in Regina’s dark eyes, making shadows appear on her skin. Emma’s been enjoying the night so much more than she has ever enjoyed any date she’s been on, and it’s all because of Regina. It’s always such a treat when Regina lets her hair down and allows herself to laugh; it’s one of those sounds that Emma really can’t get enough of, one she wants to hear all the time because it brings a smile to her face and warmth to her skin without fail.

 

The date has been more than just a date for Emma. It’s a sign of how much Regina listens to her, accepts her, and especially how well the other woman knows her. It’s been incredible, and nobody has ever gone through the trouble for her like this. And Emma hopes nobody will ever have the chance to again, hopes that her spot in Regina’s life remains hers for good.

 

Emma smiles at Regina when she puts her wine glass down and places her hand on top of Regina’s. “This has been one of the best nights of my life, you know?” Emma whispers as her thumb caresses the side of Regina’s hand, slowly gliding back and forth.

 

The smile that Regina gives her in return goes all the way up to Regina’s warm brown eyes. “I wanted to do something special for you,” she says simply.

 

Emma’s heart beats quickly in her chest with all the things she wants to say but doesn’t know how to put into words that don’t sound like they came out of a poorly written romance movie. Because Regina makes every moment feel special somehow. Everything she does for Emma feels special. Regina puts her heart into everything, and Emma can feel her love and warmth and _everything_ she feels for Emma all the time. Regina giving her support and building her up when she needed it and just being there for her is all the special she needs, is enough to overwhelm her with its perfection, but Regina has been giving her way more than that, and she does so effortlessly.

 

Emma’s heart is so full of love when she stands up from her chair and comes around the table, still holding Regina’s hand. She uses her second hand to tilt Regina’s head back, making Regina look up into her eyes. Emma might drown in what she sees, might fall into the dark abyss that is hope and love and wonder and raw emotions. She might drown in the beauty of it all.

 

“May I kiss you?” Emma asks with a smile, gently caressing Regina’s cheek.

 

Regina shivers oh so slightly and licks her lips. “You don’t have to ask,” she responds, leaning up in her seat to meet Emma halfway.

 

Every millisecond seems to stretch out as Emma bends lower to catch Regina’s lips between her own. She can _feel_ so much – the way Regina’s hand slides in hers so their fingers are properly intertwined, the way her pulse jumps, the rush of Regina’s breath as Emma’s fingers trail down to her neck, the way _Regina’s_ pulse jumps, and then the softest pair of lips she has ever kissed before, the mouth she has felt on her time and time again and still can’t believe how incredible it is. Something in Emma crumbles when their lips touch, crumbles in a good way, and a flood of liquid warmth rushes through her body.

 

“Every moment with you feels special,” she hears herself whispering between kisses. She needs to say it, doesn’t care if Regina thinks it sounds stupid. She needs Regina to _know_ , know that she is Emma’s everything and Emma has never been happier than she is with Regina.

 

Regina sighs and brings her hand to the back of Emma’s neck and pulls her in deeper, as if Emma’s words had made her want more, had made her _need_ more. Emma is more than happy to give it to her, slides her lips across Regina’s and then follows with her warm tongue. Regina’s hand slides down to where Emma’s back is bare and lightly scratches, just enough for the skin to tingle and Emma to moan in Regina’s mouth, her lips parting for Regina’s tongue.

 

They don’t separate until the need for air becomes too strong. Their lips stay touching, but they’re just breathing, the rush of the air that leaves one mouth falling against the other until they are, essentially, breathing each other in. Emma’s heart is pounding and she’s grinning like the happiest idiot, and the moment feels too perfect for it to have to ever end.

 

So she lingers as long as she can, ignoring the slight pain in her lower back from the way she’s bending and focuses instead on the warm hand that lovingly strokes her skin.

 

When they hear one of the servers coming up the stairs, Emma pulls away and goes to stand at the window, facing away from the person as she wipes around her mouth where she’s sure Regina’s lipstick is. The server takes their plates and tells them dessert will be up in a few minutes, and the whole time Regina sits there looking like the queen she always will be, powerful and in charge, even with her lipstick smudged a little.

 

Emma rubs her lips together and closes her eyes for a brief moment to let out a hum full of delight. Regina does something to her, something wonderful that makes her forget for a little while that it hadn’t always been this good. But it is now. She doesn’t want to live in the past, wants only to enjoy the present and look forward to her future.

 

She looks over her shoulder and finds Regina’s eyes on her, looking at Emma like she’s a priceless gift that’s just been placed in her lap that she doesn’t know what she did to deserve. And it’s funny, in a way, because that’s exactly how Emma thinks of Regina. Regina is every hope and dream and wish unanswered somehow neatly packaged in one woman who has chosen to give Emma everything Emma has spent years telling herself not to expect from anyone because she wouldn’t get it.

 

“You haven’t gotten up even once to look out of this window,” Emma points out after holding Regina’s gaze for a few moments. “You’re missing out on an incredible view.”

 

Regina leans her head on her balled fist and smiles, her eyes running over Emma slowly. “I quite enjoy the view I have from right here, dear,” she says, leaving no room for Emma to misunderstand what she means as she rakes her eyes over Emma once more.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you let me skip my run yesterday morning when you knew I’d be eating so much tonight,” Emma complains as she dips her spoon into her rocky road ice cream.

 

Regina waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “ _You_ are the only one responsible for deciding you would rather stay in bed yesterday morning. I was willing to join you once again, but you _chose_  to remain in bed.”

 

“You were warm,” Emma says with a small pout.

 

Regina’s eyes twinkle with affection even as she shakes her head at Emma. “If you do not want to eat the ice cream–”

 

“Oh no, I’m gonna eat it. Don’t be ridiculous. Just because I’m aware of how much I’ve eaten tonight, doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down delicious food. I’m not crazy, Regina.”

 

Regina merely raises an eyebrow and smirks a little. “Anyway, I don’t know what you’re worried about. You’re in good shape, you’re active, and your diet isn’t as terrible as it once was now that I’m the one preparing most of your meals.”

 

Emma smiles around her spoon. “You could just tell me I’ve got a smokin’ bod, Regina.” Emma laughs at the unamused look that Regina gives her. “I don’t know why you insist on pretending you don’t find me hot.”

 

“I do not.” Regina licks her lips as her eyes trace the visible parts of Emma, her face, her shoulders, her breasts. Emma can see the way Regina’s throat works as she slowly swallows, and it makes her stomach twist a little. “I have not hidden that I find you attractive. I believe I’ve more than made it clear what I think about your body.”

 

“I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve complimented me,” Emma points out.

 

“Why does it not surprise me you still require the assistance of your fingers to count?”

 

“Ha ha ha.”

 

Regina smiles up at her while spooning out some of her ice cream. “Is that what this is about? Another attempt to get me to compliment you, dear?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No. I just like messing with you. I know how you feel. I don’t need to hear it.”

 

Regina pauses with her spoon almost at her mouth, and then she puts it down and clears her throat. “You look sensational tonight, Emma. I would have told you when I came downstairs at the house, but we had an audience – an audience known for being rather intrusive and quite interested in our relationship.

 

“I must admit, for a brief moment, the thought of keeping you home where I could- -” Regina dampens her lips and her eyelids lower a little, “- -take the time to admire you in a number of different ways did cross my mind.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow raises. “Hmm. What ways?”

 

Regina hums and brings her ice cream to her mouth, sucking it from the spoon as she looks over Emma again, as though considering something. The metal spoon slowly slides past her lips as she hums again, a low, rich sound that Emma can feel somewhere low and deep in her own body. Her eyes flick up to Emma’s, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s probably for the best, because Emma’s brain stops functioning when Regina’s tongue sneaks out of her mouth to lick the spoon, slowly dragging up the curved dip and then back down.

 

Emma clears her throat and tries to look away, tries not to get turned on from Regina licking a freaking _spoon_. But she realizes that there’s no point in trying that, not when the faux innocent look in Regina’s eyes becomes downright seductive and Regina’s tongue slowly swirls around the spoon again before she slides it into her mouth and then lets her lips roll over it as she pulls it back out. There’s no reason for Emma to try to keep herself from being turned on because Regina is doing it on purpose, and there’s no escaping the way everything suddenly feels too hot and heavy.

 

Regina never does answer her question, but Emma doesn’t think she can handle the answer she would get without combusting on the spot.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Oh my God, I think I am in love with Joseph. Prosciutto in grilled cheese? Best thing that’s ever been in my mouth.”

 

Regina arches her eyebrow as she unlocks the front door later that night. “Careful, dear. You’re going to make me jealous.”

 

Emma laughs into the crook of Regina’s neck, arms wrapped around her from behind. She’s been unable to keep her hands off of Regina since they left the restaurant, and Regina hasn’t complained even once. After Regina had her fun teasing Emma, things had calmed down enough for Emma’s body to relax and for her internal temperature to cool down from the boiling heat that Regina could so easily cause inside her. Instead of wanting to push Regina up against a wall and make her scream, Emma now wants to hold her close and spoil her with sweet kisses.

 

“Of the balding man in his sixties, or of the grilled cheese?” she asks in response to Regina’s comment. “Because you don’t have to worry about one of those,” she mumbles against the warm skin beneath her lips.

 

Regina swats behind her and catches Emma on her side before pushing the door open and letting them into their home. “You’ll have to release me so we can walk in.”

 

Emma groans with displeasure, not wanting to separate the two of them. “Fine. But I want you back in my arms in under five minutes.”

 

Regina twists and presses a kiss to Emma’s mouth. “I think I can make that happen.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s in the living room when she hears Regina ask her to start a fire. Emma looks around the living, looks at the soft white creams of the room that are so very different from the dark woods and warmth that Emma likes about the study. There’s a fireplace in there, and also one in the bedroom, so Emma wonders if Regina would mind if she started the fire in a different room.

 

Regina comes into the room as Emma’s considering asking about location, holding two glasses and some type of amber liquor. Emma gets up from the sofa and takes the glasses from her. “A different room,” she explains.

 

“Our room?” Regina questions as she turns around and looks towards the stairs.

 

“I’m allowed to drink in there now?” Emma asks since Regina had banned her from having liquids in the bedroom after she’d almost dropped a glass of red wine.

 

“Good point. We’ll go into the study.”

 

They go into the study; glasses and what Emma discovers is Scotch is placed down on the coffee table. Emma looks around and then, as Regina watches with curious eyes, starts moving furniture around. Emma only gives a _just wait_ look and grins at her, because she’s about to make the perfect date night even better – which Emma had been pretty sure was impossible after the amount of fun she had just enjoying good food with her favorite person.

 

Once the furniture is out of her way and the space in front of the fireplace is clear, Emma rubs her hands together and concentrates. She thinks about the heat of the fire and a flame and then creates a fireball in her hand. She glances over to Regina and winks. “Little trick someone taught me,” she says, and then she throws the ball of fire into the fireplace.

 

Regina smiles proudly whenever she does magic, whenever she accomplishes something, and _damn_ Emma had forgotten how much enjoys that. She hasn’t used magic since they’ve been back in Storybrooke for any reason other than transporting herself somewhere, but the way Regina’s pride shines in her dark eyes makes her want to do everything with magic.

 

“Now would you like to explain why you’ve decided to rearrange all of the furniture?”

 

Emma tsks. “Impatient, impatient.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and leans forward and opens up the bottle of Scotch. “All right. Please, continue. I’ll enjoy this all on my own despite having picked it out with you in mind.”

 

“You take all the fun out of me trying to surprise you with my incredible magic skills,” Emma says with a little pout.

 

Regina makes one of those noises in her throat where it sounds like a laugh is trying to escape. She sits back with her glass and tilts it towards Emma. “Go on. _Wow_ me.”

 

“Don’t be an ass,” Emma grumbles, but she has to turn around to hide the way she starts to smile.

 

Emma concentrates again, and then a moment later what she’d been wanting to make appear is there in front of her. Regina’s small gasp makes her grin proudly from ear to ear as she looks down at the floor. There are pillows and thick blankets and– she bends down to check and then nods in approval when she confirms the foam padding is underneath the fluffy blankets. _Perfect_.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

They’ve both changed, had a glass of delicious whisky, and now Emma is sitting crossed-leg as she watches Regina stare into the fire. It dances in her eyes and along the curves of her face and jaw, brings out her cheekbones. Emma had walked in and found her like that, so she had decided to give her some space for a little while in case she needed it. Regina has looked towards her a few times, but mostly she’s just been sitting there silently.

 

Emma feels at peace as she looks at Regina, doesn’t need to talk or do anything for the night to continue to be perfect. There’s soft music playing, something without lyrics that Emma doesn’t recognize, and it floats in the air the same way the smell of burning wood does. It’s relaxing and calm, and Emma doesn’t want the night to come to an end.

 

“You don’t have to sit so far away,” Regina says a little while later, tilting her head back and to the side. She’s leaning with her arms behind her, holding her up, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Emma’s actually a little worried she might ruin Regina’s calm.

 

But she moves closer.

 

And that’s when it starts, when the heat in Emma’s body from earlier in the restaurant returns. It’s after she’s moved closer and there’s less for her to focus on with her being near Regina. Her eyes are lazily tracing the lines of her face and neck; they then move lower to Regina’s braless chest, the thin satin of her top doing nothing to hide the hard peaks of Regina’s breasts. It’s after she’s moved closer that she starts to notice the way Regina’s neck stretches when she tilts her head back, how her back arches when she slowly shifts.

 

Regina sweeps her tongue over her lips, and suddenly Emma’s own tingle. When she’s this close to Regina, Emma’s brain feels cloudy and the only thing she can think about is kissing Regina _everywhere._ There isn’t anywhere on Regina’s body that doesn’t look like it would feel good beneath Emma’s lips, she thinks with a hungry grin.

 

Emma drags her teeth over her bottom lip and lets her eyes travel from Regina’s legs to her thighs, up to her breasts, her shoulders, and then at her neck she stops. Regina’s head tilts back again, and Emma feels her pulse quicken when she thinks about how the brunette sighs and moans softly when she kisses her there.

 

Emma swallows, tries to look away.

 

Regina makes a tiny grunting sound as she rolls her head back and shakes out her hair.

 

Emma can’t resist temptation, can’t fight the urge to lean over and press her mouth to Regina’s neck when the brunette keeps tilting her head back and giving her the perfect opportunity. Regina turns back to look at her, and there’s a smirk on her lips that tells Emma she knows exactly where her mind has been.

 

“You’re toying with me, aren’t you?” Emma asks, digging her nails into her thigh to keep herself from moving over to Regina.

 

Regina drags her eyes over Emma so slowly it feels like a physical touch, like warm fingers and nails running lines over her body until she shivers. _God_ , she wants that. Regina’s tongue slips between her lips and wets them before she says, “Not yet.”

 

Emma groans, and before she knows it, she’s pushing Regina down on her back and hovering over her, both of their breaths noticeably heavier. Her eyes move down to Regina’s neck, to where it stretches and she can see her swallow. She flicks her eyes up to Regina, and Regina’s eyes give away everything. _Do it,_ they say, and Emma isn’t usually good at following orders, but she ducks her head, puts her mouth over Regina’s pulse point, and sucks.

 

Regina breathes out a soft _yes_ and tangles her fingers in Emma’s hair and pulls her down closer, urges her to apply more pressure with her warm mouth. Emma’s eager to please her, to give her exactly what she wants, and soon her lips are moving over soft skin and claiming every spot she passes. She parts her lips and pulls the sensitive flesh between her teeth, nibbles teasingly, and then runs a wet path from the base of Regina’s neck to the bottom of her jaw and revels in the way it makes Regina moan.

 

Regina’s breathy moan is the sexiest thing she’s ever heard, but it’s also the sweetest, the sound of pleasure that she’s causing in a woman she finds herself wanting to give so very much to. She smiles against Regina’s skin and slides her hand up Regina’s thigh and to her hip, pressing her down to the blankets when the brunette twitches beneath her. Emma runs her thumb slowly over the sliver of skin that isn’t covered by pajamas, warm, smooth skin, and brushes tender kisses along Regina’s jaw. She can feel Regina’s every breath, hear every sigh and quiet moan, and it’s the kind of moment she could happily lose herself in. Emma aches with how badly she wants nothing more than to drown in Regina’s pleasure.

 

When Emma starts moving towards Regina’s ear, leaving a trail of soft kisses, the fingers in her hair tighten and pull Emma to Regina’s mouth. She’s all impatience and need and unabashedly showing Emma exactly what she wants. Emma wants to be there too, feels her heart racing as their lips clash together urgently and the hand in her hair loosens and glides down her back. Emma is pulled closer, her weight on top of Regina, their bodies touching. It’s everything she has grown to love about being with Regina, that connection between their bodies, warm and solid and together. Emma rocks her hips down into Regina’s to let her know how much she likes it, likes being able to feel Regina against her.

 

“Emma,” Regina moans into her mouth, making the damp heat between Emma’s legs double just from the way the two syllables sound when mixed with the deep moan.

 

Emma clamps her teeth around Regina’s lip and pulls on it, making Regina hiss and dig her fingers into Emma’s side. Her tongue soothes the ache she’s caused, slowly traces the curvature of Regina’s mouth.

 

“Emma.”

 

“Hmm?” Emma mumbles, dragging her lips across Regina’s cheek, taking a light nip at her jaw and then nosing her way down Regina’s neck. She smells like sugar and spice, smells like something that Emma could spend all night breathing in and tasting. “Fuck, you smell good,” she groans, scooting down and continuing her journey, her breasts rubbing against Regina’s lithe body, nipples hard and sensitive. She wants so much of Regina – needs so much of her.

 

“Oh,” Regina breathes as she arches her chest up towards Emma and runs her fingers through her blonde hair, tucking it behind Emma’s ears.

 

Emma breathes in as she sweeps her hand up Regina’s abdomen, gliding the silky fabric of her shirt up towards Regina’s breasts. Emma can hear the quick beats of Regina’s heart below her ear, and then she turns her head and kisses her chest, holds her mouth to skin that burns like fire is running through Regina’s veins. Her lips are everywhere, kissing and rubbing, mouthing at Regina’s skin until she feels Regina’s hands on her shoulders.

 

“Wait,” she hears Regina say, “Emma, stop.”

 

Emma pulls back quickly and searches Regina’s face, her body, her heart pounding against her chest cavity as she holds herself up and off of the other woman. “Are you okay? Did I–?”

 

Regina pulls Emma to her mouth to quiet her. “I’m fine,” she assures her, pressing a hard kiss to Emma’s mouth.

 

Emma feels like she’s going to melt right there on top of Regina. Her body sways and her arms nearly buckle and make her fall.

 

Regina pecks Emma’s mouth and then pushes Emma away lightly so they can look at each other. Heavy-lidded eyes are unfocused and full of desire, but there’s something else in them that makes Emma feel breathless. “We’ve been drinking,” Regina says as she slides her warm palm across Emma’s cheek. She clears her throat. “I know it might sound a little foolish, given how much has already transpired between us, but I don’t want our first time to be something we’ve rushed into because we’ve let the alcohol affect our decisions.”

 

Emma pulls her lower lip into her mouth as she considers Regina’s words, and then she starts to move away to put some space between her overheated body and the one beneath her.

 

“Emma,” Regina says worriedly, her eyes widening a bit, nervous in a way that Emma’s just not used to seeing her.

 

Emma stops moving. “No, no. I agree. Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a lot longer than just tonight. So it doesn’t feel like rushing to me, but I agree. I was just–”

 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Regina says, interrupting her. Regina lets go of Emma so they can both sit up, fingers working through hair and straightening clothes. “What I should have said is, I would like for us to both be sober the first time we’re intimate – sexually. Neither of us are currently sober. I don’t want that for us. I want to be completely present when I make love to you.”

 

Emma can’t stop herself from surging forward once more, but this time it’s to place a single kiss to Regina’s mouth. “Okay. Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Regina repeats.

 

And Emma smiles a little as she tucks Regina’s hair behind her ears and then holds her face between her palms. “Sober, clear minds, probably in a bed,” she says with a little laugh. “I want you so badly right now,” she admits, feeling the flush on her cheeks and the heat that tickles her neck, “you have no idea. But I also want to do this right, whatever that means. I want this to be–” Emma’s eyes fall shut, her chest feeling heavy as a word sits on her tongue but doesn’t leave her mouth.

 

Regina brushes her lips against Emma’s cheek. “Special,” she guesses correctly.

 

“I’ve never had that,” Emma admits, slowly opening her eyes. “But I want it with you.”

 

“So do I,” Regina says, leaning back in for another cheek kiss.

 

Emma grins sweetly at her when Regina pulls back. “Let me hold you for a little while, please.”

 

Regina gently pushes Emma back and they lay down in front of the fire, Regina’s head on Emma’s chest.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma wakes up with a moan, her head tilting back into the pile of pillows she’s fallen asleep on. She hears Regina’s throaty laugh before her brain has even processed that there are lips near her ear and fingers running along her biceps.

 

“Good morning,” Regina says into her ear before brushing her lips against it gently.

 

Emma moans again, chuckling as she brings a hand up to wipe at her face. “If you keep that up, it’ll be more than just a good morning.” Regina hums with Emma’s ear between her lips, and Emma’s moan is instant and unable to be stopped. “Regina,” she groans.

 

Regina shifts and comes into Emma’s view, her hair messy from sleep, her face still carrying that sleepy softness. “You snored in my ear all night long.”

 

Emma reaches down and squeezes Regina’s hip. “Liar. I don’t snore.”

 

“Tell that to the dog you woke up last night. It spent the majority of the night barking back at you because it was under the impression you were trying to communicate with it.”

 

Emma rolls them over quickly, using all the energy she has in her body this early in the morning. Regina’s breath catches with surprise, but once she’s settled on her back, she smiles up at Emma with one of the happiest smiles she’s ever seen Regina direct towards her. Emma’s chest glows because of it, and she leans down and presses a closed-mouth kiss to Regina’s lips.

 

“Good morning,” she whispers softly.

 

Regina breathes out and runs her hands over Emma’s arm and then moves up to her neck. “Good morning,” Regina says to her once again, and then she lifts her head and kisses Emma’s mouth.

 

Emma leans her weight down on the arm she rests beside Regina so she can use her second hand to caress Regina’s cheek, her thumb brushing over the little scar above her lip. Regina’s cheek moves beneath her touch, another soft smile appearing on her lips. All Emma can think is _God, happiness looks good on her._ And that makes her heart swell because she’s a part of Regina’s happiness.

 

Emma goes back in for another light kiss, her nose lightly bumping into Regina’s. Regina hums and slides her hands down Emma’s back and her foot over Emma’s bare leg. Emma sighs and leans in once more, her heart beating calmly, the moment slow and peaceful.

 

Regina reaches up for her face when Emma starts to pull away. “I want you to keep kissing me,” she tells her, eyes holding Emma’s.

 

Emma licks her lips and slowly rolls a little so she’s laying on top of Regina but being careful about letting all her weight press down on her. She wants the connection, though, the thing that’s all theirs and makes her feel like everything else has faded for a moment. She wants to be as close to Regina as possible, feel their hearts beating against each other as their lips touch. She wants to never have to be without any of it, especially not as Regina’s looking into her eyes like she’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

 

Emma’s heart starts to beat to the words she’s thinking. _I love you_. She brushes a gentle kiss across Regina’s bottom lip. _I love you_. She softly kisses the top lip, listening to Regina's soft hum. _I love you_. She presses her mouth against Regina’s smiling lips. _I love–_

 

“I love you, Emma.”

 

Emma’s heart stops beating for a moment and she gasps, her eyes flicking up to Regina’s, questioning, searching, wondering if Regina had just told her the words she had been thinking.

 

Regina smiles with hope and a little bit of nervousness, her hands on Emma’s arms as she looks at Emma. “I love you,” she repeats softly, like a promise and an admission and so much hope.

 

Emma’s heart starts up again. _I love you I love you I love you_ like a war drum now instead of the slow rhythm it had been a moment before. She leans back down to Regina’s mouth and brushes a single kiss against her mouth before whispering, as though the words are too precious to be said any louder, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked the chapter. I just wanted to throw out a quick warning that I'm not sure when I'll next be updating. There's been a loss in my family and a lot of other stuff in the past two days, so I don't know if I'll be able to write as much and be semi-happy with what I come up with. So if there's a delay, that's why. I fully intend to come back and finish. 
> 
> Up Next: come back to bed kisses left on A’s neck and shoulder, unhurried and tender, with arms wrapped around A’s waist.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I was gone much longer than I expected, even though it really wasn't long at all. I want to once again thank all of you for your awesomeness and patience. And to show you how much I appreciate it, here's 12k words that you'll hopefully enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed putting them together for your consumption. 
> 
> Happy reading!

**come back to bed kisses left on A’s neck and shoulder, unhurried and tender, with arms wrapped around A’s waist**

 

_“I love you, too.”_

 

Regina smiles with the entirety of her face. Her warm brown eyes flood with love, and at the corners of them, Emma can see small lines deepen in her skin from where it crinkles just a little. Soft lips curve into the most beautiful smile Emma will probably ever see in her life, a smile whose brightness could rival the beam of the sun, whose perfection will never be matched, whose open honesty and display of emotion is capable of stealing Emma’s breath right from her lungs. She glows the way fireflies do in the woods at night; she becomes the light, her sleep-soft face illuminated. Regina smiles and Emma doesn’t just see it – she can feel it, _hear_ it in the beats of her heart. Regina smiles and Emma knows that no matter what she has to do, she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure Regina always has a reason to smile like this.

 

There’s a small chuckling sound in Regina’s throat when she cups the side of Emma’s face and shakes her own head with a bit of amusement swirling into her deep eyes. “Don’t look at me with such surprise in your eyes, Emma.”

 

Emma hadn’t been aware she looked surprised. Nervous despite trying to hide it? Perhaps. Overjoyed beyond belief? Definitely. But she didn’t know her surprise had been visible.

 

Emma leans her head back down, her nose rubbing against Regina’s. Regina’s hand slides around to the back of her neck and lightly scratches her scalp. Emma’s body relaxes into Regina’s instantly; her shoulders feel lighter, her legs loose, her hips comfortable as one presses into the blankets beside Regina’s own hip and the second one rests atop Regina. She can’t stop the small mewling sound that escapes her throat, the sign of undeniable contentment as she presses against Regina and her eternal warmth.

 

“Henry gave you the talk last night, too, huh?” Emma asks after a while, after she’s adjusted and settled so that she can lay her head down next to Regina’s. She’s so close that she can’t look into her eyes, but she can see the way her cheek lifts and her eye squint a little, can tell that Regina’s smiling.

 

“Which talk might that be? I’m afraid there were many of them last night.”

 

“The ‘you love my mom’ talk,” Emma fills in as she blindly slides her left hand down Regina’s side until she can get it underneath her sleepshirt. The edges of Regina’s teeth appear at the corner of her mouth, lightly rolling over her lower lip while Emma’s fingers glide up smooth skin, moving towards her ribs. She inhales and exhales softly, and Emma can feel her stomach expand ever so slightly and then deflate. “You got one of those from the kid last night, too, didn’t you?”

 

“Indeed,” Regina responds. “However, that isn’t the reason I told you. Our son can be rather tenacious when he’s on a mission, and it would seem that his latest mission is to make the two of us come to our senses and, I believe he said, ‘realize that we are meant for one another’. I, for one, was perfectly aware of how I felt about you before Henry’s motivational talk.”

 

“He gets that from you,” Emma mumbles into the crook of Regina’s neck. “Stubborn as hell and always thinks he’s right.”

 

Regina makes a small noise in her throat, but she doesn’t disagree. “I’d like to point out that, while Henry might have been trying to convince me of something I was already aware of and didn’t need to be told, he was not wrong about how either of us feel.” She clears her throat. “He’s observant and intelligent- -”

 

“Which he gets from me, of course,” Emma says with a wide grin that Regina cannot see.

 

Regina laughs as she continues on, probably rolling her eyes. “- -and it was only a matter of time before he decided he could no longer sit back and, as he believed he was doing, let us waste time pretending we weren’t already harboring stronger feelings for each other than we have vocally shared. Even before we discussed the dynamic of our relationship with him, he was fully aware of what was growing between us. You are remarkably obvious, so I can assume it wasn’t too difficult for–”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Emma says quickly, lifting her head up so she can look at Regina. “ _I’m_ the obvious one?”

 

Regina arches an eyebrow. “Do you disagree?”

 

Emma gives her a look that sort of screams _of course_ and Regina’s chest vibrates beneath Emma with a laugh. “Don’t laugh,” Emma says as she removes her hand from underneath Regina’s shirt so she can swat at her shoulder.

 

“Then don’t be so ridiculous.”

 

“If either of us made our feelings for the other obvious, it wasn’t me we should be pointing a finger at.”

 

“Emma, do you know how long I’ve known you were attracted to me?”

 

Emma sits up completely, folding her legs and looking at Regina as she props herself up on an elbow and starts combing her fingers through her hair. “Leave it,” Emma tells her with a shy smile, wrapping her fingers around Regina’s wrist and making her stop. “I like the way you look when you’re still in bed, when your hair’s still messy from sleep.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes at Emma, but she can’t keep the smile on her lips hidden even as she looks away. “When did you know?” she asks a moment later, almost hesitant in the way she speaks.

 

Emma’s brow lifts. “Know...?” she asks slowly. “That you loved me?”

 

Regina shakes her head, although she does pause for a moment as if she’s suddenly wondering about that instead of whatever she meant when she asked the question. “The other way around.” Regina’s hand curls into a fist against her stomach, and Emma notices and puts hers on top of Regina’s until she relaxes it and spreads her fingers as an invitation for Emma to slide hers between Regina’s own. “That you were physically attracted to me, I’ve known that for a long time. It didn’t come as a surprise to me.”

 

Emma almost jokes about how sure Regina always is about her looks, but she picks up on something that stops her. The part that Regina doesn’t say is heavy in the air. Regina wasn’t surprised that Emma had been attracted to her based on her looks, but the deeper emotions, the love she feels, Regina had been surprised by that. Emma frowns sadly at Regina and squeezes her hand.

 

“Don’t answer that,” Regina says, shaking her head. She disentangles their hands and moves to get up from their thick blankets. “I should not have asked you that.”

 

Emma doesn’t let her get far, is quick to grab Regina’s hand and look up at the woman who now stands in front of her. “Hey,” Emma says, trying to get Regina to look at her but not being able to. Even though she stays and does not pull away, she doesn’t meet Emma’s eyes. Emma swallows. “It happened in stages,” she answers her, honest and with a light smile touching her lips that goes unnoticed. “I don’t think there was one moment for me. There were several. There were different types of loving you, you know?”

 

Regina clears her throat and squeezes Emma’s hand. “Why don’t you go upstairs and shower while I clean up down here?”

 

Emma’s shoulders sag and her stomach starts to feel heavy, the dismissal in Regina’s tone loud and clear. “Regina,” she says with a short sigh.

 

Regina turns to look at her and gives Emma a smile that is clearly fake. Her eyes don’t even stay focused on Emma. “Go ahead. I’ll get started on breakfast while you get dressed for the day.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” Emma says with a longer sigh, pulling her hand from Regina’s and getting up. “Just tell me we hit a nerve or whatever and you need space. I’ll go.”

 

Regina doesn’t respond. She only watches as Emma heads upstairs to take her shower, Regina’s shoulders and spine stiff and her hands clasped in front of her. But it’s the look in her eyes that stays with Emma as she climbs the stairs and goes to the bedroom they share. Regina’s eyes had been distant, but there was questioning and curiosity and wonderment all mixed together in them that she had been unable to hide. That look is all Emma thinks about as she gets showered and dressed.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma leans against the kitchen doorway, not sure if she should cross the boundary or not. She can remember a time when she wouldn’t have questioned it, when she would have invaded Regina’s space without thought nor regret when she knew Regina didn’t want her around. But things haven’t been like that in a long while, and Emma no longer ignores signs of Regina wanting her to stay away. In fact, Emma sometimes finds herself searching for them until she catches herself doing it and has to remind herself how unhealthy it is for her to always go looking for evidence that she’s unwanted when Regina has done nothing to deserve that. It’s not good for Emma, and it’s not good for their relationship. She’s working on it, though. She’s working on not letting old habits get in the way of her living a happy life where she’s not always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

Regina’s already dressed, which means she must have changed using her magic because Emma hadn’t been gone that long and Regina has already started cooking. Just as Emma hasn’t been using her magic these last couple of months for more than transporting herself once or twice, Regina hasn’t either. But it’s clear that she has this morning.

 

Emma knows how long it takes Regina to get ready for the day, knows almost every detail of her morning routine. Regina’s hair is done to perfection, her pants pressed, her white button down shirt whose sleeves are neatly folded up to the elbows is crisp and neatly tucked in, and although Emma cannot see Regina’s face, she’s willing to bet her makeup is flawless. Emma knows that she didn’t have the time to do that in the short amount of time it took Emma to shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a henley with long sleeves. She knows it just as she knows that Regina’s wearing her modern version of armor, the only thing missing being her suit jacket to complete the mayoral look of power and control that she seeks when she’s feeling unbalanced or too vulnerable for her liking.

 

Emma doesn’t see a lot of this Regina, the Regina who is all walls and distance. It’s why Emma’s not sure if she should enter the kitchen or find something else to do until breakfast is done. Normally, Saturday mornings they all make breakfast together, Regina, Henry, and Emma. Saturdays are Henry’s days; they spend the day doing whatever he chooses before going to Emma’s parents’ loft for their weekly family dinner. Afterward, Regina and Emma return home while Henry spends the night with his grandparents and baby uncle. Not only is Henry already gone for the weekend with Snow and David, after Regina had dismissed Emma earlier, she’s not sure whether or not her presence in the kitchen is desired.

 

“You know I hate that. If you want to come into the kitchen, please do so. That is an entryway, not a leaning post for when you choose to spy on me.”

 

“I wasn’t _spying_ on you.” Emma pushes herself off the wall and shuffles into the kitchen as Regina turns away from the stove to face the island. “I didn’t know if it was–”

 

“Safe to come in?” Regina questions, lifting her dark eyes to meet Emma’s.

 

Emma smiles tightly, hands already shoved into the snug space of her jean pockets as she shrugs her shoulders. “Not how I was going to put it, but, yeah, I guess. You sorta kicked me out of the study.”

 

Regina sighs and lowers her eyes. “You are more than welcomed in your own kitchen, Emma. You don’t need to hide in dark corners to assess my state of mind before determining whether or not it is safe for you to enter the room.”

 

“I know,” Emma mumbles with a touch of regret weighing down those two simple words as she watches Regina go back to making pockets in the thick slices of sourdough bread.

 

Emma sweeps her eyes across the island’s surface to confirm what she already knows. She sees the strawberry container with only the discarded tops, the mixing bowl set up, and she can’t help the little appreciative sound that forms in her throat as her eyes move back to the bread Regina’s cutting. She’s making Emma’s favorite stuffed french toast, and she only does that when she feels guilty for something.

 

The first time she made it for Emma, the strawberry cheesecake french toast, it had been after Regina had taken her frustration out on Emma by being unnecessarily snarky and rude when they were searching for the author and had been continuously hitting brick wall after brick wall. Emma hadn’t taken it all that badly, was used to how Regina dealt with her frustration. But Regina had invited her over for breakfast and apologized, said she felt bad for what she said when Emma hadn’t done anything that warranted that sort of treatment. Emma hadn’t expected it, but she both appreciated the genuine apology and thought of it as one of the moments where their friendship had gotten stronger.

 

“Can I help?”

 

Regina shakes her head from side to side. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’m almost finished with this now.” Emma gives Regina a long look before nodding once and moving to the side of the bar where the black stools are. Regina waits a moment before adding, “Thank you for the offer.”

 

“Yeah, no problem.” Emma chews on her cheek as she thinks of something else to say, a way to figure out what’s made Regina feel guilty. Sometimes just jumping into things works best for her, for both of them, but after how quickly the mood had changed earlier, Emma knows better than to do that.

 

But that doesn’t mean Regina can’t do it herself.

 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away earlier,” Regina says without looking at Emma. “You did nothing to deserve that from me, and I found myself wishing I hadn’t done so as soon as you were gone.” She pauses, eyes shutting for a few heartbeats like she’s thinking something over. “You were right. If I need some time to myself, I know that all I have to do is let you know and you will give it to me. I also know that I could have explained to you at that moment why I felt as though I needed that space. When I asked you...” she starts, but she stops herself with a long exhalation.

 

Regina’s eyebrows knit together and she puts the bowl that she had just picked up back down on the island and clears her throat. Her eyes move to Emma’s, but they don’t stay looking at her long enough to see the small smile Emma gives to Regina. She rolls her shoulders and rubs her hands together, squeezing her fingers around the sides of her hands before flexing them.

 

“There are moments when I still find it difficult believing that everything that has happened between us is real,” Regina admits tightly. She’s not upset, Emma can tell. She’s fighting against her instinct to keep it all in, fighting that part of her that tells her not to show her emotions and real feelings because they’ll be used against her. “Sometimes, I honestly can’t understand why you love me. When I asked you earlier when you became aware that you felt that way, it wasn’t a question I meant to voice. I wonder quite a lot about it, but I didn’t want to ask you. I was–”

 

She sighs.

 

“The possibility of you thinking about it and coming to your senses, realizing that what you feel for me isn’t actually love, that terrifies me more than anything has in a long time – and I don’t frighten easily. That’s why I needed a moment to myself. I was...” Regina breathes out and rolls her eyes at herself. “I was scared. I was scared of what you might say if the conversation were to continue.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow raises. She hadn’t expected Regina to be the one to broach the topic, but it was a surprise that made it more apparent to Emma how far they had come with each other. Most of the time in the past, if there was something wrong with Regina that Emma wanted to know about, she would be the one who needed to bring it up. If she didn’t, Regina would just keep it to herself – which would either lead to Regina becoming a sarcastic asshole until she found a way to move on from whatever it was on her own, or Regina would become distant and cold.

 

Regina hadn’t been used to people actually caring about what was wrong with her, Emma had figured, and because of that decided to keep what was bothering her to herself. Emma had understood that, understood because she was not much different from Regina – that was why Emma had made sure to ask, to try to show that she was there to listen or whatever Regina needed. Regina choosing to talk about what’s wrong with her on her own shows that Regina knows she can, knows that Emma is there for her in whichever way she currently needs her to be. It’s a way that Regina displays that she trusts her, and Emma makes sure to show Regina that she hasn’t made a bad decision in doing so.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Emma dampens her lips and waits for Regina to look at her, waits for Regina’s shoulders to loosen and her eyes to soften back to what Emma has grown used to seeing when Regina looks at her. “Those moments where you can’t believe any of this is real? I get those, too. I get them a lot, actually,” she admits with a half-chuckle as she runs her fingers through her hair and brings it to one shoulder, twisting her blonde locks in her hand.

 

Regina smiles lightly as she picks up her spoon and a slice of bread, meets Emma’s eyes with a silent question in her own. Emma nods her head to tell her she doesn’t mind if Regina finishes cooking their breakfast as they talk. Her stomach certainly doesn’t mind, that’s for sure.

 

“When we were buying groceries last week and I went to find something while you and Henry continued on without me, I was walking back to find you two and I had to actually stop in the middle of the aisle just to think about it. Like, we were grocery shopping, the three of us, the most normal thing in the world, and everything just hit me, full-blast. It felt too good to be true, you know, too perfect, too much like everything I spent years wanting. It felt like something that would be taken away. And that continues to scare me – losing you, losing Henry, losing us, our family.

 

“There are times at night or in the morning, while we’re in bed, where I am wide awake but feel like I’m dreaming,” she says, feeling a flush of warmth move to her cheeks from her neck. “I know I’ve told you that it makes me feel safe when you’re holding me, but that’s not all it is. Because even when you’re on your side of the bed and I’m on mine, I get this feeling, I don’t know, this sense of warmth. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody ever, has made me feel the way you do just from being near me. I stop worrying when you’re close. I know that if something is wrong, we’ll work together to get through it. I know that if I couldn’t, for whatever reason, protect myself, you would. Believe it or not, all of that scares me a little, too. It makes me–”

 

“Want to run?” Regina asks without judgment, her voice soft.

 

Emma glances over to her and smiles a small smile. “For once, no. I know I don’t have the best track record when it comes to not running.” Regina laughs quietly, and Emma pauses and reaches for one of the stems from the strawberry container and tosses it at her. “That was not meant to make you laugh,” she says with a laugh of her own.

 

Regina puts the stem back where it came from and smiles at Emma, a real smile that isn’t weighed down by emotions. “I’m done. Please, continue.”

 

Emma holds Regina’s eyes for a long moment, and then she returns Regina’s smile and feels something inside her that had felt heavy and tight loosen. “You and Henry, you’re my home. I’m not going to run away from that. I’ve spent too long searching for one to give it up now that I have it.” She rubs her hands down her thighs and adds, “There’s not going to be a moment where I realize I don’t love you, Regina. Because I do.”

 

Regina, who has just finished with getting the stuffed bread ready to cook, wipes her hands on a towel. “Emma,” she says softly.

 

Emma smiles at her and holds her hand out across the island, hoping Regina takes it. Regina looks down at it, but instead of just holding Emma’s hand like she had wanted, Regina takes a hold of it and starts walking around the island. Emma gets up and meets her halfway, is quick to capture Regina’s other hand in her free one the moment they are standing next to one another.

 

“I love you,” Emma says as her thumbs rub into Regina’s hands.

 

Regina nods her head. “I know you do.”

 

“Do you really? Because I could give you a list of all the reasons why if you need me to convince you. I can spend the rest of this morning, the day, telling you how incredible I think you are, how every moment with you makes me love you a little more, how I find new reasons to love you every day.” Regina rolls her eyes, and Emma laughs and leans forward so her nose bumps and rubs Regina’s. “I can tell you about the time you laughed over lunch months ago, when we were just friends and I wasn’t even considering anything would ever happen between us. I can tell you about the way it made my heart race and I knew that I wanted to make you laugh like that, make you happy, for as long as I lived,” she whispers, her heart racing just as quickly as it had that day.

 

Regina’s breath hitches, and then there are lips on Emma’s, hard and desperate for a connection. Emma gasps and melts and soars all at once, Regina’s hands leaving hers so one can thread through Emma’s hair and the other can pull her closer to Regina’s body by splaying out on her back. She brings her own hands to Regina’s face and strokes her cheeks and warm skin, slides them into her hair.

 

Regina kisses her like she’s trying to pull the air from Emma’s lungs – deep and without holding back – and Emma can’t find any reason why she shouldn’t give every ounce of it up to her. What good is the air doing her when she already constantly feels breathless around Regina, anyway?

 

All too soon Regina pulls away from Emma’s mouth, and Emma finds herself following after her, seeking the warmth hidden beneath plush lips that she had just been invited to sample. Regina’s chuckle is quiet and intimate, fills Emma’s belly with heat that spreads through her like a fire. She hums and tucks Emma’s hair behind her ears, her eyes still closed as she stands there, Emma’s arms now wrapped around her middle.

 

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, her voice raspy and low, and dangerously sexy.

 

“For what? Stopping, I hope, because we can definitely start that up again,” Emma mumbles as she leans her head forward and rests her forehead against Regina’s and lets her eyes fall shut.  

 

“My lack of impulse control,” Regina corrects. “What you said...”

 

Emma smiles when Regina trails off with a soft breath that whispers across her wet lips. She squeezes around Regina’s waist and brings her mouth to Regina’s, surprises Regina, whose slight gasp turns into a deep groan, with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle, and Emma feels herself smiling into it when Regina’s body sways into hers.

 

“I meant it,” Emma tells her, brushing their lips together. “Every word of it.”

 

Regina presses her gentle hands to Emma’s face and makes her pull away so their eyes can meet. She silently looks at Emma, her heart beating against Emma’s chest, her warmth spilling through layers of fabric and warming Emma all the way down to her bones. Emma sometimes wonders what Regina sees in her eyes, what she goes searching for when she looks at her like this, like there are answers to questions that Emma does not know hidden in the mix of blue and green that twinkle in her eyes. She never asks, but Regina always seems to find what she’s looking for. The corner of her mouth lifts and her entire face noticeably softens, and somehow that translates into everything being okay between them, to everything being right and good.

 

“Do not let the voice inside your head convince you that what we have isn’t real. If you need a reminder- -” Regina wraps her fingers around Emma’s chin and presses a single kiss to her lips, “- -I will give you one. We have both been fighting our own internal battles for so long that I believe it’s time we stop letting our self-doubt and insecurities have control over us, don’t you? I say it’s time we love and let ourselves be loved without the worry that it will all be taken away from us when we least expect it.”

 

Emma’s heart is heavy in her chest as she nods, smiling at Regina, the woman who looks at her and glows with love and happiness. “Absolutely.”

 

Regina pulls Emma’s head towards her and bends it forward so she can kiss her forehead. “Now,” she says, clearing her throat of the raw emotion that had crept into it, “I have to finish making breakfast before everything goes bad. Would you be a dear and get out the dishware?”

 

Emma steps aside and lets Regina move around the island, her head tilted as she watches her. “Of course,” she says, but she lingers where she stands, in no hurry to move away.

 

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.

 

.

 

The sun warms her face as she tilts her head up to the sky later on in the morning, standing barefoot in the large backyard. She breathes in a deep breath and exhales happily, feeling light and weightless. A soft breeze floats by her and blows through her loose hair; it tickles her neck and ears. Two weeks into April and Emma is already looking forward to summer, to perpetual sunshine and late nights.

 

“I thought I might find you out here,” she hears come from behind her.

 

She turns her head slowly and lets a welcoming smile greet Regina as she crosses over to Emma. She shakes the crushed eggshells in the container she’s holding. “I thought I’d come out here and sprinkle these in the garden for you.”

 

Regina looks completely surprised, but she simply says, “How thoughtful of you,” while giving Emma’s arm a squeeze.

 

Emma grins widely and turns to give Regina a kiss. She can’t help herself. Regina’s mouth is soft and gentle and always makes Emma buzz from her head to her toes. Regina allows her a quick kiss and then pulls away, licking her lips and rolling her twinkling eyes. Emma’s grin only grows wider.

 

“I missed you,” Emma says as she walks past Regina to get to the garden full of evergreen plants and fresh soil Regina’s been getting ready for some new plants she’ll be planting in a few weeks.

 

“I was gone for less than two hours,” Regina says with an audible eye roll, following Emma.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you. How’s the bean doing?”

 

She makes a sound of distaste as she says, “I don’t know which of you is worse, you or my sister. If you two continue to call her that, she’ll believe it to actually be her name.”

 

“Speaking of,” Emma goes on, ignoring what Regina’s just said because Regina’s niece will probably always be the little bean in her head – it sorta stuck, and she can’t even remember how since she and Zelena have not yet fully moved past their issues with one another despite Emma trying to make things right, meaning there has not been much contact between the two of them. “How’s your sister doing these days? Did you enjoy your visit with her today? The last one was pretty rough for you.”

 

Regina shrugs her shoulders slightly and takes the container of eggshells that have been ground up – calcium for the plants, Emma believes Regina told her – and shakes out the rest of its contents. “I left her in one piece, so I’d say it went well enough.”

 

Emma snorts. “That bad, huh?”

 

“Let’s just say, today was not one of Zelena’s good days. I had hoped that she might be interested in going somewhere together for lunch, or even coming here if she’d rather not go into town. But it would seem that she rather stay alone inside the house, convinced that every attempt I make to do something that will help us get to know each other better is really part of some plan for me to harm her in some way.”

 

Emma bumps her shoulder into Regina’s and then lets it stay there when Regina leans into her a little. “If she’s anything like you – which I think she is – she’ll come around. That stubbornness runs in your blood. It’s a pain in the ass, but, like I said, if she’s anything like you, she’ll come around – and, in my opinion, when someone’s worth it, the waiting period doesn’t matter that much.”

 

Regina hums thoughtfully and then takes Emma’s hand into her own. “When did you grow such a soft spot for my sister?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes as Regina walks them back towards the house, Emma’s feet enjoying the sun-soaked grass and dirt beneath them as they leisurely stroll across it. “I didn’t. It’s you I have a soft spot for. Didn’t you know that?”

 

Emma winks at her, and Regina shakes her head like she isn’t amused. She is. She always is – Emma knows it.

 

“I just know how important this is to you. I know you want to have a better relationship with your sister, and I want that for you, too. I’m not saying I’m going to be captain of the Zelena Redemption Club or anything, just that, we’ve all fucked up, and she seems like she actually wants to try, even if she acts like the very idea of being anything less than wicked appalls her. She’s talking to Archie – that’s a start. Even though you and Zelena still bicker most of the time, once you stop thinking about strangling her, you actually seem like you’ve enjoyed yourself when you come back from these visits.”

 

Regina nods her head in agreement and leads them to the porch swing on the deck. They sit side by side, and Emma notices for the first time that Regina’s no longer wearing the sharp businesswear she’d put on earlier. She’s in slacks still, but she wears them with a lilac V-neck top that is soft and the complete opposite of the crisp button down and tailored blazer from earlier. Emma briefly wonders if the outfit earlier had really been about her, or if it had been about the visit she paid to her sister. Robin had been there for at least part of it to drop off their daughter, Emma knows. She doesn’t ask how they handle moving the baby back and forth, doesn’t really enjoy talking about Robin much at all. And neither does Regina, which is why Emma considers that Regina might have been dressed that way because she was prepared to be uncomfortable when she saw him, as it has been nothing but awkward between them lately.

 

“If she were to agree to it sometime in the near future, what do you think about having her over for dinner?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and kicks at the floor, pushing them so they swing a little. “I’m in. I told you, I’m going to support this. And maybe in the process, she and I can work on our relationship as well.”

 

Regina glances towards Emma before nodding slightly. “We’ll get Snow to sit the two of you down so you can discuss your _feelings_ and–”

 

“Don’t even finish that,” Emma says seriously, knocking Regina’s knee with her own. Regina chuckles softly and then lays her head down on Emma’s shoulder. “We are not getting my mother involved in this. I’m so serious.”

 

Regina pats Emma’s thigh twice and then gives it a squeeze. “Relax. I was only joking. For the record, she might actually be a lot of help if you were interested in having a mediator present. She is well-suited for the role, and she'd be more than happy to help play a part in at least getting the two of you on speaking terms."

 

“One: I’m going to tell her about all the compliments you’ve been giving her lately.”

 

“Go right ahead, my dear. I’ll either deny it or find something to insult her about to balance everything out. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I know you aren’t even half as annoyed with her as you pretend to be – and you don’t even put any effort into that anymore. Sometimes I think you like her better than me.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Regina says, lifting her head. Emma turns to look at her, eyebrow raised. “I can’t stand either of you half the time.”

 

Emma leans over and captures Regina’s lower lip and bites it. “Jerk,” she mumbles before pulling it into her mouth and soothing whatever pain her teeth had caused.

  
Regina hums in delight and kisses Emma back, her hand slipping to sit comfortably between Emma’s thighs. It makes her blood run hot, and she forgets about the rest of what she was going to say and gets lost in the softness of Regina’s mouth for the next few minutes.

 

.

 

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.

 

It’s a little past noon when Emma removes her keys from the little hook Regina makes her put them on so she doesn’t lose them. They jingle in her hand as she twirls them around her finger by the keychain and makes her way to the study, where Regina has been for the past thirty minutes or so. Emma knocks on the open door with a single knuckle and pokes her head in. Regina lifts her eyes from the book she’s reading and arches an eyebrow.

 

“You wanna go for a ride with me?” Emma asks in a casual ‘I just thought of this idea’ tone.

 

Regina’s second eyebrow follows the lead of the first and raises as well. “Where to?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “Wherever the car takes us.”

 

Regina doesn’t answer right away, but she slides a laminated bookmark into her book and then shuts it. She gets up and returns it to a shelf before brushing her hands down her torso and turning to look at Emma, studying her face. “Wherever the car takes us,” Regina repeats slowly.

 

Emma rubs one of her feet with the other and scratches at the nape of her neck. “Just for a drive around. I thought it might be nice to get out and enjoy the weather. It’s really nice out today.”

 

“That it is,” Regina agrees, the space between her eyebrows pinching ever so slightly.

 

Emma’s own eyebrows knit together as she says, “Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

 

Regina clasps her hands in front of her, looks away, and then unclasps her hands and frowns slightly. “It feels as though you’re up to something, but I can’t figure out what it is that might be.”

 

“Uh. I just wanted to go for a drive and thought you might want to come with.”

 

Regina continues to look at Emma as though she’s missing something, but she soon nods and leaves the spot she’s standing at. “All right.”

 

“Really?” Emma asks with a grin that slowly grows on her lips.

 

“Really,” Regina repeats with a slight laugh in her throat.

 

Emma goes to get her phone and a few other items while Regina goes in the other direction, telling Emma she will be right back. While she waits, Emma sends Henry a text message to see how the Star Wars marathon with David is going. Henry’s emoji-filled message makes her laugh out loud. She sends him back a quick text as she hears Regina returning from the second floor, telling him to enjoy the movies and not to eat too much junk food. (She’s turning into Regina. It’s official. Henry even tells her so in his next text.)

 

“The kid says he misses you,” Emma says when Regina makes her way over to her, glancing up to catch Regina’s smile.

 

“I miss him as well. The house is far too quiet without him here.”

 

“We need to stop over there for a quick moment before we go for our drive,” she informs Regina. "You'll get to see Henry and I can find out what my mother is so insistent about giving to me." She tucks her phone away in her pocket and tilts her head towards the door. “Ready?”

 

“I believe so, yes.”

 

Emma twirls her keys on her finger once and then starts walking. “Before I forget. You don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, do you?”

 

“What are you up to, Emma?” Regina questions instead of answering.

 

“Nothing. I’m just making sure I’m not going to be competing with anyone else for your time. So...”

 

Regina doesn’t buy it, Emma knows, but she answers the question that she had been asked. “You know the only plans I make for Saturday are to see my sister and niece because we normally spend the day with Henry.”

 

“Right. Okay. I was thinking we could have a Regina and Emma day today,” Emma says, smiling hopefully over her shoulder as she locks up and Regina waits for her, the spring air pleasantly warm.

 

Regina waits for her to turn around before asking, “And what is it you would like to do?”

 

Emma smiles and holds her hand out for Regina, palm up, not moving until Regina’s hand is in her own. “A little driving,” Emma starts as they walk around to the driveway together. “Then we can grab something to eat, maybe enjoy something new...” She shrugs her shoulders. “I just want to have a good time with you. That’s all, just a fun day to continue the theme of this weekend.”

 

Regina merely hums.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It isn’t until they start heading towards the town line that Regina asks Emma, “Where are you taking me?”

 

Emma grins a little as she says, “On a semi-impromptu date.” She glances over to Regina to check her reaction and finds a mix of too many different things for her to make sense of any of them in the two or three seconds she has before Regina responds.

 

“Outside of Storybrooke?” Regina asks, and it’s confusion that wins out when she speaks.

 

“Yep,” she answers simply, eyes on the road in front of her, hands comfortably resting on the wheel.

 

“And did you think that it might be a good idea to _ask_ me before taking me across the town line?”

 

Emma glances over to Regina again. “I did. I just didn’t specify where we would be going. That would have ruined the surprise.” Regina huffs. Emma frowns slightly. “Okay. Let’s pretend we aren’t almost at the town line already and we’re still in the house. ‘Kay? Regina, how about we go somewhere where nobody knows who we are and we can just have a good time – somewhere outside of Storybrooke?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes at Emma and shakes her head, bringing her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Where are we going, Miss Swan?”

 

“Hey.” Emma gives her a small pout. “Don’t Miss Swan me when all I was trying to do was take you out for a night of fun.”

 

“Where, _Emma?_ ”

 

Emma coughs as she answers, “Boston.”

 

“Boston?!” Regina repeats, her voice booming in the compact car.

 

Emma sighs and pulls over. They’ve reached the town’s border, and Emma is second guessing herself and isn’t sure Regina’s still up for the drive now that she knows where they’re going. She probably should have thought this through for a little while longer.

 

“Okay, maybe I did this all wrong, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Last night was really amazing, and I had a lot of fun on our date.” Emma reaches over the console and curls her hand over Regina’s, smiling a little at her. “But, God, I was unreasonably nervous before we went out last night. I was so worried about everything being perfect. I wanted this to just be fun, stress-free fun, just the two of us enjoying each other’s company without overthinking everything.”

 

Regina sighs and turns in her seat. “You could have just told me that when you asked if I wanted to go for a drive. You could have also specified that we would be driving for two hours. That would have been a good idea.”

 

“Yeah, I _could_ have. But since when do I do anything the way you think is best?”

 

Regina makes a small noise in her throat and looks out through the windshield. “Why Boston?”

 

“Closest place we’ll find the type of restaurant I want to take you to,” she explains, sounding a little hopeful because she can tell that Regina isn’t fully against the idea like she had thought she might be. “So...?”

 

Regina’s eyes move over to catch Emma’s, and she holds them for a long moment before nodding her head twice. “Although I have neither dressed nor prepared for a date, okay, let’s do this. I’m sure not much can go wrong on this impromptu date of yours.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes as she chuckles. “Your faith in me is astounding, Regina. I don’t screw everything up, you know?”

 

Regina smiles lightly and brings her hand up to Emma’s hair and tucks it behind her ear before leaning over and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “I’m sure this evening will be lovely.”

 

Emma’s heart glows at the sound of Regina’s soft voice whispering words against her lips, and she grins in agreement. “It’s already starting off on a good note,” she agrees, cupping Regina’s face and pulling her back when she starts to straighten in her seat, wanting a longer kiss from her remarkably soft lips.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

They’re somewhere in New Hampshire, driving down a long highway where they’ve only driven past five or six other cars. The sun is shining through the windshield, warm and bright and hitting Regina’s face. Emma has to force herself not to turn and look at her too often. The way the sun dances across her faces is breathtaking, makes her russet eyes look like expensive gems that sparkle and are too extravagant for Emma to even look at. When she gets a glimpse of them, she doesn’t know how to look away, so she has to focus extra hard on the road to stop herself from being tempted.

 

“This isn’t a spur of the moment trip to Boston, is it? More thought went into this date than you’re admitting to,” Regina says as she changes song after song on the playlist they’re listening to. According to Regina, Emma has atrocious taste in music. Regina expected an improvement from their last trip, but Emma has apparently disappointed her.

 

“I might have thought about this once or twice before,” she shares. “But doing this today? Yeah, that was mostly me just having an idea and going with it. I planned this a little differently in my head when I first thought about driving down to Boston.”

 

Regina stops changing songs and lets a Joan Jett song play as she asks, “Will you tell me where we are going now that we are halfway there?”

 

Emma gives Regina a look out of the corner of her eye, intending to tell her that she’s not going to get Emma to give up any more details than she already has. However, Emma finds herself distracted by the way the wind blows through the open windows and plays in Regina’s hair. That plus the way the sunlight brings out the lighter browns in Regina’s dark hair is almost enough for her to forget how to deny Regina anything. She’s said it before, and she’ll say it again many times in her life: Regina is unfairly attractive, like all the time, but especially in the moments when she’s not even trying to be.

 

“Eyes on the road.” Regina laughs quietly and pushes Emma’s head around so she’s facing forward. She lets her hand linger, her elbow resting on the back of Emma’s seat and her fingers begin absently twisting through Emma’s hair.

 

Emma’s grinning stupidly, she knows it, can feel the burn in her cheeks from how hard her muscles are working. But, dammit, if there’s ever been a good reason to go around with a goofy grin on her face, that reason is sitting right beside her.

 

Emma moves her hand from the gear shift and puts it on Regina’s thigh and gives it a squeeze. “No spoilers about where we’re going, but I will tell you that I’m positive you’ll have a good time. I promise it."

  
"I'll hold you to that." The fingers in her hair start moving in slow circles against her scalp as Regina lets out a sigh of contentment.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

They arrive in Boston just past three o’clock, so they drive around for a little while because it’s too early for dinner. Emma tells Regina stories from her bail bondsperson days, pointing out places that she includes in her retelling of her past as Emma takes a trip down memory lane. The atmosphere in the car is unsurprisingly comfortable, even though Regina’s still curious about where they’ll be going for dinner.

 

They drive out of the city. The noise around them dies out slowly the further they go, and by the time they reach their destination, it’s nice and quiet outside of the car save for the sound of other vehicles whooshing by them. Regina arches her eyebrow as she looks around them, but Emma only grins and turns off the car.

 

When she gets out, she rushes around to the other side so she can open Regina’s door before she does it herself. Regina rolls her eyes at her when she makes a show of pulling the door open and sweeping her hand out for Regina to take it.

 

“And before you ask,” Emma says once Regina is out of the car and looking around at the tall trees and dirt paths, “no, this is not where I’m bringing you for dinner.”

 

“Clearly,” Regina says, still looking around them. “Unless you’ve taken up hunting recently, I doubt there are any options for dinner within walking distance to begin with.”

 

Emma smiles, shutting the door. “‘Fraid not. But there is somewhere I want to take you if you’re up for a little walk. But first- -” Emma opens up the trunk and pulls out a small duffle bag. “- -you might need this.”

 

Regina turns around to look at her, and then the bag. “You packed a bag?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and waits for Regina to take the bag before she moves to lean against the side of her yellow bug, her hands going to the pockets of her jacket. “It was easier than explaining why you needed to change your shoes before we left,” she explains, watching Regina pull out the boots with the thick but short heels.

 

Regina smirks and opens her door back so she can sit down. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

 

“You sound surprised.”

 

She shakes her head while removing one of her heels. “Not at all. While you may choose to continuously downplay what you do, I am fully aware of how much thought and effort you put into things. It is neither unnoticed nor unappreciated.”

 

Emma’s cheeks warm as she bows her head and looks down at her feet, the toe of one of her boots digging into the gravel and dirt. “Well, yeah...”

 

Regina changes her shoes quickly and searches the rest of the bag with a curious look on her face. Emma simply waits in silence, watching her, tracing the edges and curves of Regina’s face as the bright sun’s rays touch it. There are extra sweaters and a scarf in case either of them gets cold later on, some waters, and a blanket Regina looks at for a long while before a tiny smile makes an appearance on her mouth and she stuffs it back into the bag.

 

“All good?” she asks once Regina zips the bag up.

 

“Yes,” Regina tells her, and then she shuts her car door and shoulders the bag.

 

“I can take that,” Emma offers.

 

“I have it. You can tell me the story behind this place,” she says, sweeping her eyes over the wooded area once more.

 

Emma nods her and signals for Regina to follow. “You know that small scar on my thigh, the one that looks like the birds kids draw – you know, the weird M-shaped one?”

 

“I do,” Regina says slowly as she steps over the guardrail like Emma just has. “What about it?”

 

Emma breathes in the scent of trees and dirt, earth, and then reaches for Regina’s hand and takes it into her own. Regina’s fingers instantly curl around hers and makes Emma grin a little as she looks down at their hands and then starts leading them down the path.

 

“I got that out here when I, for whatever stupid reason, thought it would be a good idea to go hiking in the dark while I was _probably_ a little more drunk than anyone should ever be when they decide to go into the woods in search of buried treasure.”

 

“What?” Regina asks, sounding confused, amused, and like maybe she doesn’t believe a word that just left Emma’s mouth.

 

Emma laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a long – and stupid – story.”

 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Lucky for you, I have nowhere to be until tomorrow afternoon.”

 

Emma clears her throat. “Okay. So, it all started with a shot of tequila...”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You didn't,” Regina laughs out, stopping at a tree so she can clutch her stomach. Emma doesn't think she's ever seen Regina laugh so much, so freely. “Please tell me you didn’t honestly believe his story.”

 

“I was drunk! I was possibly the most drunk I have ever been. He could have told me that the moon was made of cheese and I would have told him to take me to it so I could take a bite.”

 

Regina continues to laugh, but there’s something twinkling in her eyes besides amusement. Even as she looks at Emma, laughs at the crazy situations she’d gotten herself into in the past, she looks at her with so much love that it spills right out of her. Emma’s heart aches a little if she stares at her too long, aches because it’s too full and bright.

 

“So did you find anything?” she asks, quieting her laughter slowly and licking her lips. “On your, um, treasure hunt, were you able to find the jewels your pirate friend had hidden?”

 

Emma shakes her head, pouting even though the whole thing is ridiculous. “Not unless you count empty beer cans and a broken pair of glasses as treasure, nope. It was a bust.”

 

“I hope you learned your lesson that night,” Regina says as she adjusts the bag on her shoulder and continues walking down the dirt path, her feet quiet on the ground.

 

“What lesson? Never to trust a pirate? Because I don’t have to tell you that I obviously didn’t.”

 

Regina’s smile falls from her face, but she doesn’t say anything. In fact, they don’t speak anymore for the rest of the walk.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s as beautiful as she remembers. The hidden lake water is clear and surrounded by trees and rocks of various sizes, deep in the woods where it’s quiet and her thoughts don’t need to fight against the sound of the city's noise. There are very few people around, which makes it even better than she imagined it would be when Emma turns her head up to the sky and lets the sunlight that spills through the tops of the trees bathe her skin in its golden light.

 

“This was where I used to go when I needed to escape and get away from everybody when I lived out here. When I wanted to get away but also didn’t want to leave completely,” Emma shares as she breathes in and out softly, soaking up the moment. “I’ve never brought anyone out here before, but for a long while it was my favorite place to be.”

 

“And now you’ve brought me here.”

 

Emma peeks out of one eye and grins at Regina. “Well, I can’t show you my current favorite place to go to when I feel like I need to escape, you know, since I go to you when I need that now. So, you get to see this instead. Not nearly as beautiful, I know, but you’re tough competition,” she says with a wink.

 

Regina’s head shakes from side to side, but the faint blush that colors her cheeks gives away Regina’s true feelings.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s laying on her back, looking up at the clear sky and the tops of green trees full of leaves. Her legs are bent, and Regina is sitting beside her with the side of her body against them.

 

“Henry would have loved it out here when he was a younger,” Regina says softly.

 

Emma lifts up her head slightly to look at Regina, but the brunette’s eyes are closed and her head is tilted to the side so that it rests against the tops of Emma’s knees. “Oh, yeah?” she asks just as quietly, laying her head back down and closing her own eyes. “We can come back and bring him next time if you want to. I’m sure he’d love to see Boston. It could also be nice for us all to get away for maybe a week or something, maybe during the summer. Or even just stop here and go somewhere else. I’m up for a road trip with you and the kid anytime, just say the word.”

 

Regina doesn’t respond right away. But Emma doesn’t open her eyes back or repeat herself. She just stays still and waits as the air that smells like the lake and trees breezes past them. The moment is peaceful and doesn’t require conversation, and the idea has been put out there for Regina to think about whether she makes a decision right now or not.

 

It’s minutes later, several long, quiet minutes later, that Regina asks, “Which word?”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders the best she can while laying down on her back and replies, “Take me away.”

 

“That’s three words.”

 

Emma chuckles. “Don’t be nitpicky.”

 

Regina removes Emma’s hand from her stomach and lifts it up, their fingers touching only at the tips. “Where do you want to go?”

 

Emma’s answer comes immediately, and she doesn’t even think about how cheesy and cliche it might sound. She says it because it’s true and exactly how she feels. “Wherever you and the kid want to go. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Come here,” Regina whispers when they’re back in the car later on, her hand sliding through Emma’s hair.

 

Emma leans over the console between their seats and sighs when she is met by a pair of gentle lips that kiss her like she’s delicate and might break. It draws out a sigh from somewhere deep inside and she melts. “What was that for?” she asks, looking into Regina’s eyes once the kiss ends.

 

“For letting me see you, the real you. Thank you.” Emma’s eyebrows knit together a little, but Regina uses her thumb to relax the muscles in her face. “I’ve been thinking about–” Regina shakes her head in a dismissive manner and smiles instead. “You let me see you, all of you, the good and the bad – the parts of you that you have kept hidden from everybody your whole life – and...”

 

Regina’s words seem to fail her, and so Emma finds herself being pulled back in for another kiss. Emma’s heart can’t keep up with the moment, is racing and pounding in her chest. Regina pours every emotion in her body into Emma’s, kisses her with the softest touches, caresses her cheeks with gentle fingers. Emma feels like she might drown in all of it – there’s so much, so much love, so much emotion, so much to feel that Emma has no idea how Regina can even stand to breathe when everything Emma’s feeling for those few moments is what Regina feels all the time and it’s almost too much for her.

 

Emma pulls back for air, gasps, and it’s then that Regina whispers, her lips brushing their way across Emma’s jaw up to her ear, “I have never found a soul more beautiful than I find yours, Emma.”

 

And Emma’s entire body shivers and feels like it’s glowing from the inside out.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It’s been a day.

 

It’s been the kind of day that Emma is never going to forget. When the day starts with the woman who has been given your heart telling you that she loves you, there shouldn’t be any way for it to possibly get any better. But all Emma can think about as she stares across the wood table at Regina, watching Regina as she watches the live band on the stage, is that the day has only continued to get better as the hours have gone by.

 

“Can I get you two ladies anything else?” the waitress asks, her accented voice making Emma jump slightly as she pulls herself away from her thoughts.

 

Emma smiles up at the friendly server who stops by their table almost every time she walks by. “Regina?” Emma asks, glancing down to the seafood paella they’re sharing and have almost finished.

 

Regina straightens her back a little as she smiles politely. “Did you want to order dessert?” she asks Emma.

 

Emma’s had a plate of plátanos maduros and at least half of what’s been eaten of the their shared dish. Her stomach is already pleasantly full, so she shakes her head in the negative. “I think I’m going to have to say no to dessert.”

 

Regina raises her eyes, surprise written all over her face. “Seriously? You, Emma Swan, turning down dessert?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and the waitress, who waits patiently, smiles at them. “She swears all I do is eat and sleep,” Emma stage whispers behind her hand, and then sticks her tongue out at Regina when she smirks.

 

Regina shakes her head at Emma and then decides, “I think we’re ready for the check.”

 

The young woman nods her head and says with a friendly smile, “I’ll be right back with it.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma and Regina say together.

 

Once they’re alone, Regina picks up her red sangria and finishes the drink in one swallow. Regina runs her tongue over her lips and then smiles at Emma, her skin carrying a slight flush. Emma breaks off a piece of the tostones bowl the paella is in and takes a bite while holding Regina’s eyes. Regina’s eyebrow raises, and Emma grins at her and shakes her head.

 

“Do you want to dance?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Regina says with a laugh, glancing over to the live band.

 

Emma’s been watching Regina watch the drummers and singers on the stage. Whenever she wasn’t talking to Emma, her eyes were glued to the group performing. Regina greedily consumes things she finds interesting, and it’s always such a joy to watch. The restaurant is full of culture, from the music to the decor, parts of the island living and breathing in the states, and Regina has taken it all in with the same open display of fascination Emma remembers seeing on Regina's face when she used to watch her work with potions when Regina was teaching her about magic.

 

“Really? Because you’ve been dancing in your chair all night,” Emma points out, still grinning at Regina because her face knows no other way to behave when in Regina’s presence.

 

“There is a difference between swaying in one’s chair and getting up and dancing where everyone can see you. In only one of those instances can I embarrass myself in front of a group of people I do not know.”

 

“I’m completely sober and asking you to dance with me. That means that if one of us is going to embarrass themselves, it’ll be me. And besides, like you said, you don’t know these people. You’ll probably never see them again.”

 

Regina looks at Emma as though she’s considering it, but then she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t even know _how_ to dance to this kind of music.”

 

Emma decides that’s no reason not to dance, and after their bill is paid and a generous tip is left, she takes their jackets and brings them to the car, leaving Regina in the restaurant. When she returns, Emma has removed her henley and is left only with her white tank top tucked into her skinny jeans. Her arms are bare, sculpted muscles on display. Regina gives her a slow look-over as she approaches, dark eyes raking over Emma's body as though Regina's trying to burn every millimeter of Emma into her brain, and Emma can’t stop the cocky grin she gives her when Regina licks her lips and breathes out slowly.

 

“Ready?” Emma asks, leaning in to whisper into her ear.

 

“No, but I’m sure that won’t stop you from bringing me over there.”

 

“Only if you truly want to leave.”

 

Regina responds by leading the way herself.

 

There’s a group gathered where there are no tables. Regina and Emma join them, weaving their way through the small crowd so they can get to the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. It's perfect; this way they’re not the first to be seen when diners look towards the dancers. This close to the stage, Emma can feel each of the loud beats of the drum in her chest, can feel the heavy vibrations of it. She glances around them and studies the way people dance for a moment. She’s always been good at this, watching other people’s behaviors and mimicking them. It’s how she gets into the rhythm of the music and figures out what to do with her feet.

 

On the other hand, Regina closes her eyes and does the opposite. She doesn’t follow the dancers around her. Regina listens to the music and seems to block out everything else. When she dances, it’s a bit more than that, more than just dancing to music. It’s like she becomes the music, like the beat of the drum is a part of her, like each shake of the tambourine is in her fingers as they move through the air like she can caress it. Regina moves with her hips and shoulders and feet, and then her arms, and soon Emma can see that she has completely surrendered herself to the music and her entire body moves with it, rolls and sways like the music is in her bloodstream and she exists only to bring life to it.

 

 _This_ is why Emma had wanted to get Regina away from Storybrooke. Regina is free and not thinking about those around her. They’re all strangers, and none of them know who she is or was and Regina can just be Regina and dance with Emma.

 

Brown eyes slowly open and lock onto Emma’s, and Emma moves closer to Regina, pulled in by the seductive look in dark eyes. Regina’s hips move in figure eights and her arms wind themselves around Emma’s neck, their bodies finding a rhythm together as the drum beats and beats and beats.

 

Emma slides her hands down Regina’s back and then around to her slim waist, takes her time smoothing her hands down to the curves of Regina's hips. She grips them and lets her knees bend a little as she follows Regina’s lead, moves forward when Regina goes back, lets Regina push into her a moment later. She chases the heat of Regina's body and moves with the quick tempo of the music. Regina rolls her hips and then her shoulders, moving away from Emma and then coming back, over and over again, her body like a wave Emma wants to ride as she looks down between them and watches her, watches how damn sexy Regina looks rocking her hips like that.

 

The air is hot and the music loud, and Emma’s so, so, so lost in Regina’s body. Regina smirks like she knows it, brings their hips together and grinds against Emma’s thigh while leaning back and holding on tight to Emma’s neck. She shakes her hair out and makes a slow figure eight again, the control she has over her hips nearly making Emma breathless. Emma groans in her throat and slides one of her hands around to Regina’s back, uses it to pull Regina back to her.

 

Her warm breath teases Emma’s lips, and Emma is tempted to kiss her. She can almost taste the sweetness of the sangria on her lips, can almost feel Regina’s impossibly soft mouth on hers. She has to bite her lower lip to stop herself, bites her lip while looking at Regina’s, her hips moving with Regina’s, their bodies touching, pressing together.

 

Emma swears she can make it through a few more dances with her. She convinces herself that Regina’s body might have her brain forgetting how to function properly, but she can handle it. And Emma actually believes herself. She believes it until Regina’s hands are in her own and she’s spinning around to face the opposite way. She believes it until Regina’s ass is against her and Emma's arms are wrapped around the petite body with sinful curves that will, without a doubt, be her undoing. She believes it until Regina leans her head back against Emma and looks into her eyes as she starts singing along with the music they’re dancing to, her voice breathy and low and the Spanish rolling off her tongue and making absolutely no sense to Emma but driving her completely insane at the same time.

 

It’s been a day for Emma, but it’s going to be one hell of a night if Regina keeps this up.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The sound of the drums beating stays with Emma for the rest of the night.

 

She hears it as they dance until Regina and Emma are no longer two separate dancing bodies but one moving being.

 

She hears it as they drive back to Maine, the night air cool as it blows through the cracked windows and hits her face.

 

She hears it as Regina hums while getting ready for bed once they’ve arrived home and have called Snow and David and spoken to Henry.

 

The beat of the drum stays with her until she falls asleep listening to a different beat, the beat of Regina’s heart beneath her head as she lays her head against her chest and holds her tight.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma rolls around in the bed, blindly seeking warmth with her arm stretching out and sliding across cool sheets. She groans and buries her head beneath the pillows that smell like coconut, wraps her arm around it and tries to wrap the rest of herself around it as well. But it’s too small, too soft, too _not Regina._

 

Emma roughly pulls the pillow away from her face and lifts her head up, her blonde hair a mess as she sweeps it away from her face and looks at the alarm clock. It’s barely past midnight, definitely not the time to be awake. Her head falls heavily against the pillow and she tries to close her eyes and fall asleep. She squeezes them shut tightly and tries to think of soothing things, like beach waves, rain, all the things that have never helped her.

 

It doesn’t work.

 

She’s cold, the kind of cold that cannot be ignored nor warmed by sheets and blankets. She craves the heat of Regina’s body near her, and she knows from experience that she won’t be able to sleep until she gets it.

 

Emma sits up on her elbows and looks around the bedroom. Regina’s not there, and the bathroom light is not on. She rubs her hands across her face and slides her legs over to the edge of the bed. She stretches her arms above her head and then gets up, leaves the bedroom and pads down the stairs to the dark first floor.

 

She peeks into the living room, but finds it empty and moves on to the kitchen. Sometimes Regina wakes up in the middle of the night and makes herself some tea to help her sleep. Emma doesn’t find her there, either.

 

The study door creaks as she pushes it open, but it does not disturb Regina. She’s standing in front of the fireplace, holding a book in her hand, and she doesn’t even turn when Emma enters the room. Emma rubs her hands down her cold arms as she crosses over to where Regina stands, holding the closed book.

 

“Hey,” Emma says before she approaches completely, expecting the way Regina jumps at the sound of her voice.

 

Regina looks over her shoulder and attempts to smile at Emma. “What are you doing up?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and comes closer, closes the space between them by wrapping her arms around Regina’s middle. “Missed you. Got cold,” she mumbles, burying her face in the crook of Regina’s neck. It’s warm and smells of sleep and home.

 

Regina leans back into Emma and exhales a long, tired breath. “You’re always cold.”

 

Emma hums and kisses Regina’s neck. “And you’re always there to warm me up.”

 

Regina tilts her head to the side a little and Emma smiles against her skin while dragging her lips up the inviting column of Regina’s neck. The woman wrapped up in her embrace sighs and leans her head back against Emma’s shoulder. Emma glances over and sees lashes fluttering as Regina’s eyes fall shut. Emma turns her head and kisses Regina’s shoulder, follows the line of her bone with her mouth.

 

“Come back upstairs with me,” Emma mumbles between slow, unrushed kisses. Her lips linger after each kiss, long enough for her to breathe in the scent of Regina’s skin. She exhales as she moves closer to Regina’s neck, claiming a new spot with the gentle brush from her mouth. “Let’s go to sleep.”

 

Regina pats the arm Emma has wrapped around her and then slides up all the way to the crook of her elbow. Regina puts her book down on the mantle and wraps Emma's arms around herself and holds them to her. “I tried sleeping. Someone kept kneeing me in their sleep.”

 

Emma hides her head in the warm space between Regina’s shoulder and neck. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

 

Regina hums and squeezes her fingers around Emma’s biceps. “I couldn’t sleep before that. I had a lot on my mind.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Emma asks, dropping another kiss down on Regina’s shoulder. She yawns and presses her lips together to try to keep it in. “Preferably in bed.”

 

Regina gives her a slight chuckle. “Go up to bed, sleepyhead.”

 

Emma groans in protests, squeezing her arms around Regina. “Not without you. I’m cold.”

 

“There are very expensive blankets in our bedroom that could take care of that problem for you.”

 

Emma shakes her head and rubs her nose up against Regina’s neck. “I want you.”

 

“Don’t you always,” Regina says lightly, not judging but stating something that is quite true.

 

“I’m getting whiny, and I don’t like it. Please come to bed with me.”

 

Regina presses her face to Emma’s and sighs. “Run your fingers through my hair for me?”

  
Emma grins. “Deal. And you can tell me about what's keeping you up if you like." 

 

Regina smiles as she turns around and presses a soft kiss to Emma's mouth. "It was nothing important. Trust me." 

 

She does. Always. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: heated kisses with gasps in between, hands tugging at clothes and exploring skin, bodies pressed close. giving in


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're terrible at writing kissing scenes and your vision includes a lot of kissing, it takes a lot longer than you want to get a chapter together. Plus, this beast of a chapter decided it needed to be 14k words. So, thank you to all the patient people who are sticking with me and not demanding updates. (And screw you to the rude person who did. Demanding updates does not make me write any quicker. Please don't do that.)
> 
> So much thanks to the awesome people over on Twitter who make me remember why I enjoy writing fics and sharing them with people, and those on Tumblr who somehow ended up listening to me complain a whole lot.
> 
> And, as always, thanks to those of you who take the time to comment and tell me what you like. It means the world to me! :)
> 
> Now, on to the chapter a bunch of you've been waiting for.
> 
> *you know how I mentioned in chapter one there would be explicit sex scenes? well, that happens in here. it's all in one section if you'd like to skip over it. just don't skip the whole section bc there's a conversation before the sex stuff happens.*

**heated kisses with gasps in between, hands tugging at clothes and exploring skin, bodies pressed close. giving in**

 

“Gonna keep you in this bed the whole weekend,” Emma murmurs into the crook of Regina’s incredibly warm neck. She has absolutely no desire to be anywhere else – which she shows by burrowing deeper, nuzzling and pushing herself closer. It’s like laying out on a sunny day in the summer and letting the sun warm her face, only better.

 

Regina squirms and makes this breathy moan that’s part pleasure, part laugh because she’s faintly ticklish there. Emma smiles dopily against her and can’t resist the sudden temptation to do it again, cause that sound that makes something low in her belly feel fluttery. She shifts towards Regina and crosses her leg over one of the brunette’s, curls against her side while Emma wiggles a bit and moves her head as close as it can possibly get.

 

She can feel the vibration of the next moan against her, can feel it beneath the lips she has pressed to Regina’s neck. “Would you be still,” Regina hisses, but there’s a hint of a smile in her voice, too.

 

Emma lives for that, lives for the way Regina can’t even be properly annoyed with her most of the time. Emma is the causer of smiles and soft, sweet sounds, and damn if that doesn’t make her feel all kinds of special. To be able to elicit the noises that show unadulterated joy from a woman who is notoriously known for once being filled with very little more than pain and darkness gives Emma this warm and fuzzy feeling that makes her stupidly happy, happy because Regina’s happy, and Regina being happy makes Emma’s world look a whole lot brighter.

 

Emma thinks they’ve earned this break, this quiet morning in bed together and a weekend all to themselves. It’s been quite the week, and there is very little that sounds better to her than ending it in Regina’s arms. The only thing that could make this weekend better was if Henry had stayed home with them.

 

She has missed just getting to hang out with her kid, and she knows Regina has missed spending quality time with him as well. She’s more sad for Regina than herself, though. It had hurt like someone was twisting something with jagged edges into a fresh wound when Henry reminded them he was going camping for the weekend with the volunteer club he was a part of. It was part work (cleaning up the woods), but mostly play (fishing and ghost stories and s’mores). Emma had been able to see all the light in her eyes fade when he reminded them and then rushed up the stairs.

 

Regina had run a few ideas by Emma over lunch yesterday about how they could spend the weekend with Henry since they’d both been terribly busy. There had been so much going on during the week, and hardly enough time for them to do more than have dinner together and catch up on how school was going for Henry. Regina had really been looking forward to this weekend, so, of course, it had hurt watching her try to hide her disappointment when Henry came downstairs, camping gear packed, the teenager full of energy and unnaturally excited about going to clean up other people’s trash.

 

They spent the night watching stupid movies that neither of them were all that crazy about and eating the caramel popcorn Henry loves. And when they went to bed, Emma had told Regina stories about New York and Henry and didn’t stop until Regina was smiling lightly again and then falling asleep with her head using Emma’s chest as a pillow.

 

It’s now after nine o'clock on Saturday, and although Regina doesn’t spend many of her mornings lazing in bed like Emma likes to do when she gets the chance, she hasn’t once said anything about how they need to get up and get dressed. Emma thinks Regina has as little interest in joining the rest of the world as she herself does. She lays silently beside Emma and lets the affection-hungry blonde curl up around her, and that’s all. That’s the complete list of things Regina seems to want to do even though she’s normally up and out of the bed by now, already finding something to busy herself with.

 

So, for a long while, the two of them just rest together in the silence of the early morning, in a bubble where nothing can disturb the tranquility of their quiet time together.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

When they do get out of bed, it’s to have a late breakfast – no, not brunch, because Emma’s pretty sure having brunch suggests she won’t be having lunch, and that’s not the kind of commitment Emma’s about to make. It’s an uneventful morning for the most part, in the kind of way that feels really good after the previous five days have been nothing but event after event.

 

They make fruit salad together – or, Regina makes fruit salad and Emma eats a fourth of the chopped fruit before it’s finished, grinning at Regina’s glaring eyes because she’s  _cute_ when she thinks she’s being threatening while she’s wearing pajamas and hasn’t done her hair and really just looks like something small and soft that should be wrapped up in Emma’s strong arms.

 

They eat it in the kitchen, Emma sitting on the island and Regina on the bar stool that’s between Emma’s spread legs. She rarely gets away with this, sitting on countertops and other places she shouldn’t, but Regina lets it slide. They share the large bowl of mixed fruits, and Regina gets on her about ignoring the fork that was put in it for Emma but has not been used even once. Fruit is finger food, which she tells Regina as she picks up an apple chunk and brings it to Regina’s mouth.

 

“See,” she says while holding the fruit between two fingers and sliding it across Regina’s soft pink lips.

 

Regina merely makes a noise in her throat and takes a slow bite, the fresh fruit crunching lightly as her teeth sink into it. Emma watches the way her lips wrap around the apple and waits for her to begin chewing the half she’d bit off before popping the other into her own mouth. She smiles as the fruit coats her taste buds, sweet and crisp, her eyes on Regina’s face.

 

“See,” she repeats, “no utensils necessary – which means fewer dishes to wash.”

 

“Anything to get out of housework,” she muses with a shake of her head, watching the way Emma brings her thumb up to her mouth and sucks sweet juices from it.

 

She doesn’t look exhausted anymore, Emma notes. By the end of Thursday, Regina had looked tired and worn out, and like she’d been in battle the whole week. (Which she had been, in a way, even if the threat to Storybrooke had turned out to be non-magical and not much of a threat at all, just some misbehaving teenagers causing trouble when they should have been in school.)

 

It was only once she was getting ready for bed, when the mayoral mask she had been depending on more often than usual slipped off, that she had allowed the fatigue to show. But even before that Emma had been able to tell how exhausted she was. She carried herself like a queen, regal, her back straight, her shoulders strong like she could carry the weight of the world on them. But Emma had been able to see through all of that. And when Regina had willingly lowered her walls and allowed Emma a view of what she hid from everyone else, it was only more clear to her that Regina was drained and tired of always having something to fight.

 

(Emma held her every night of the week, unable to sleep herself because they hadn’t gotten any answers until Friday, but feeling like she was at least able to do something to help one person when Regina almost instantly fell asleep in her arms, clinging to her like she was worried she might disappear.)

 

This morning, while her face holds that softness it does when she’s sleepy or just waking up, there’s a brightness in her eyes that has been missing. There’s something calm and serene about her, and Emma wants for Regina to stay looking comfortable and relaxed for as long as she possibly can. Their week has reminded her how chaotic their lives can get, and that has made Emma appreciate the quiet and calm even more. She believes the same can be said for Regina, thinks that’s why Regina snuggled in bed with her for over two hours after waking up and still hasn’t changed out of her pajamas like she always does by this time of day. (Emma’s actually pretty sure this is the first time she’s seen her in sleepwear after eight-thirty in the morning.)

 

“You’re quiet this morning,” Regina says as she rubs her hand up Emma’s thigh and then lets it sit atop her hip.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulder a bit and picks up a piece of melon and chews on it. “Are you complaining? I thought you liked when I’m quiet.” Regina’s brow raises. Emma grins and says, “Less chances something you’ll consider either inappropriate or idiotic will come out of my mouth.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and squeezes Emma’s hip. “If you’re not saying those things, I have no reason to chastise you for it.”

 

“Ahh. So you just want a reason to get under my skin?” Emma responds with a knowing look, chuckling lightly.

 

“Perhaps,” Regina admits as her fingers slide underneath the band of Emma’s pajama pants and starts rubbing the bare skin beneath. It’s soft and gentle, small circles being massaged into her flesh. “I guess I will have to settle for getting underneath your clothes instead if you choose to spend the day in silence,” she whispers, her voice a little husky like it gets when Regina’s being flirty.

 

A familiar warmth settles comfortably in her belly, one they have been too busy for her to think about since a week ago. Emma moves the bowl from the small spot she’s allowed it between her thighs and puts it off to the side. She slides forward a few inches and raises her feet so she can hook them around the back of Regina’s stool. Regina’s cheeks feel warm beneath her hands when she places them there, and the look the brunette gives her makes her grin big and wide.

 

Regina leans up before Emma even starts to lean down, her second hand holding on to the island as she lifts from her seat ever so slightly so her lips are almost touching Emma’s. Her smile is open as she flicks her eyes up to Emma’s, her eyes daring as they search Emma’s face that way she tends to do. Emma slides her hand down from Regina’s cheek to her shoulder, and then around to curl around the back of her neck, moving so slowly that it makes Regina squirm. Her breath hits Emma’s face in a hot burst when she exhales and her fingers press into Emma’s hip, squeezing her there while sweeping her tongue across parted lips.

 

“Your hands getting under my clothes, huh?” Emma responds to Regina’s comment. She licks her lips and flicks her eyes between Regina’s mouth and dark eyes a few times before nodding. “Yeah, I could definitely get behind that,” she whispers while she brings Regina up to her mouth for a kiss.

 

Regina makes a small sound that’s almost a laugh as their lips slide against each other. She pulls her fingers away from Emma’s hip and slides them up her back instead, causing a small shiver. “I’m afraid whatever ideas I’ve just put into your head will have to wait, my dear. I have work that requires my attention,” she tells Emma, burying her words between sweet kisses that distract Emma for a moment or two.

 

But when Regina’s words have registered, Emma feels herself pouting just a little. She’s not a pouter, she often tells herself – but it’s a lie, a big lie, because there’s a lot of pouting when she gets disappointed, or wants something from Regina, or Granny’s out of bear claws when she goes in to get one. (Like on Wednesday. She'd just wanted one thing to go right, and that bear claw had been her only hope.) So, yeah, Emma is  _sometimes_ a pouter. And this is a moment for pouting.

 

Regina kisses it away instantly, though, kissing her thoroughly and with lips that do not rush. And Emma can’t do anything but  _melt_ and lean forward and kiss Regina back until she’s pretty sure she’s going to fall over and make them both get hurt if she doesn’t stop trying to get closer closer closer while she’s still sitting up on the island.

 

Emma groans as she ends the kiss, giving Regina’s bottom lip one more gentle tug with her teeth as she pulls away. She licks her lips and stares at Regina, both of their breaths heavy and Regina noticeably flushed from her chest to her cheeks. Emma thinks it’s pretty – Emma thinks everything about Regina is pretty, honestly.

 

Regina rubs her lips together and closes her eyes, sitting back against the back of the stool. She hums like she can still feel the pressure of Emma’s lips, still taste her there. It’s terribly attractive, and Emma can’t stop herself from continuing to openly stare at her.

 

“I only need a few hours.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “Hmm?”

 

Regina peeks one eye open and then raises her brow as she scans Emma’s face. “To take care of the work I had to bring home with me. I was planning on doing it last night, that way we could have today and tomorrow with Henry.”

 

Emma nods slowly, and then a little faster once her brain clears and she can actually make sense of what Regina’s saying. “Oh, yeah, okay. Anything I can do to help?”

 

Regina looks at her thoughtfully, like she’s considering something. She does this thing where her mouth twists a bit and she looks like she’s completely focused on Emma. Emma reaches out and touches her face, runs the backs of her fingers over Regina’s cheek just because she can and she really loves how soft Regina’s face looks when it’s makeup-free. Regina smiles – and it’s just a smile, the way a white peacock is  _just_ a peacock and a glowing forest is  _just_ a forest. There's nothing  _just_  about the brilliant smile on Regina's lips.

 

Regina puts her hand on Emma’s and gives it a squeeze. “From you, I need only one thing.”

 

Emma nods her head once. “Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

 

Regina turns her head and gives Emma’s hand a kiss. “I need you to stay away from the study until I am completely finished getting everything put together for the department head meeting Monday morning.”

 

Emma had known it was coming, so she simply leans forward and brushes a kiss to Regina’s lips. “No distractions. Promise. I’ll go upstairs and you can come find me when I can have my cuddle buddy back.”

 

Regina hums and nods in agreement, half-heartedly warning, “You’ll lose out on your cuddling privileges for the day if you call me that again,” as she gives Emma's wrist a soft kiss.

  
Emma decides not to take the risk and ignores the urge to do it again.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s leafing through a copy of one of the Harry Potter books she’d taken from Henry’s bookshelf when she hears the small creak in the wood floor. She slowly tilts her head to the side and looks over to the bedroom door, a little smirk forming on her lips when her eyes meet Regina’s slightly alarmed ones. She’s been standing there for a while – Emma had sensed her presence – but Emma had chosen not to say anything until Regina came into the bedroom.

 

“How long you planning on standing over there?” she asks, closing the book on her lap and placing it on the nightstand, scooting forward to make space for Regina behind her.

 

She roves her eyes over Regina from the bed, obvious in the way she takes in the brunette in her version of comfy clothes. Her shirt has buttons and she’s wearing this cardigan sweater thing that looks like it probably costs more than everything Emma’s wearing, but she’s wearing it with the leggings Emma picked out for her, the ones that make her legs (and ass) look incredible – and, well, at least she’s not wearing business clothes like she’s planning on going into work instead of pretending with Emma that nothing exists outside their home for the next day and a half.

 

“You do know that I have a rather large collection of books downstairs that are more age appropriate, don’t you?” she asks as she eyes the book Emma had been reading.

 

“Get over here,” Emma says with an eye roll, shuffling forward again, “and no judging what I like to read. Have you read the series? Because if you haven’t, you’re not allowed to judge me. And if you have, then I’m judging  _you_ for even suggesting I should be reading something else when these books are incredible and great for all ages.”

 

“Of course I’ve read them, more times than I can remember,” she says in that  _you should already know this_ tone – and,  _duh,_  Emma does know that. Regina reads everything she buys Henry before she gives it to him to make sure it’s age appropriate – or at least that’s what she told Emma, but Emma’s pretty sure the only reason she still does it is because she likes being able to have discussions with Henry about the things he enjoys. It’s the little things like that, Regina’s need to be able to connect with Henry, that makes her continuously send silent thanks up to the stars that her son ended up with Regina.

 

Emma’s back feels cold with the reminder that Regina still hasn’t entered the bedroom. She tells Regina this and receives one of her favorite kind of eye rolls, the one that is all affection and is followed up by one of the smiles that makes her face light up and Emma’s heart _boom boom boom_ in her chest. Emma pats the space behind her and gives Regina her best pout, one of the ones that make the brunette terribly weak. Regina finally enters the room after that, sighing as she climbs into the bed like it’s the most difficult thing for her to give in and join Emma. But the way she settles with her back against the headboard and then pulls Emma to her and instantly wraps her legs around Emma’s waist and guides Emma’s head against her chest gives away how content she feels with Emma leaning against her.

 

Well, that makes two of them, Emma thinks as she sinks into Regina and wiggles her hips a bit to get herself situated comfortably between Regina’s legs. It’s a pleasant feeling being surrounded entirely by Regina, soft, warm, coconut-scented Regina. Emma reaches for one of Regina’s hands and takes it into her own. Regina lets Emma play with her fingers, and Emma watches the way her fingers slide and connect with those belonging to the other woman before falling into their places between Regina's. Palm to palm, their hands clasp together, the most natural thing between them, and Emma can’t hold in the satisfied sigh just the sight of their joint hands causes.

 

“Now, isn’t this better than watching me from the door?” Emma asks, tilting her head back into Regina’s chest.

 

Regina looks down at her, really looks at her. For a moment, she looks like she’s about to say something sarcastic or mildly insulting that she doesn’t really mean, but then her eyes soften and she caresses Emma’s cheek with the hand Emma isn’t holding. Her answer is a simple, “Quite,” and then she moves her eyes down from Emma’s to the smiling lips a few inches below.

 

Emma reaches up and cups the back of Regina’s head and pulls her forward while also lifting and twisting herself just enough to make the connection, answering the silent request with a warm kiss. Regina tastes like strong coffee with a hint of sweetness, and Emma’s tongue seeks out that flavor as it passes lips that part for her. It’s a slow, deep kiss, and Emma feels the heat of Regina’s mouth spill into her body and fill her belly with each new slide of their tongues and brush of their lips.

 

Regina hums one of those long, throaty sounds and squeezes her thighs around Emma’s torso before straightening her legs out and bending lower, like she’s trying to kiss Emma deeper, feel more of her. “Turn around,” she mumbles into Emma’s mouth when she seems dissatisfied about their positioning. “Around,” she repeats with more urgency the second time, pulling her mouth away from Emma’s and looking into her eyes with this look that’s full of want.

 

Emma shuffles quickly after that, almost too quickly, nearly falls off the bed as she rolls over to bring herself up to her knees. “Holy sh-”

 

“Careful,” Regina says as she grabs Emma’s arm and steadies her, a small smile on the lips Emma's already thinking about getting hers back on.

 

“Thanks,” she murmurs with a sheepish smile.

 

This is not the time to become a clumsy disaster, she tells herself with absolutely no patience for the klutz she can be. Regina’s eyes are on her, trained on Emma’s face, and she doesn’t want that to be what Regina sees when she looks at her. She doesn’t want to be the woman who sometimes trips over air and makes stupid mistakes, not when Regina’s doing that thing where she’s searching Emma for something like she’s trying to make a decision. She wants to be the best Emma Swan she can be, wants to present the best version of herself. Regina’s brow furrows, and Emma automatically knows something’s wrong. Her fingers move to work through her hair and fix her clothes and wipe her face all at once, two hands not seeming like enough.

 

“What?” she asks self-consciously. She then clears her throat, settled on her knees in front of Regina.

 

Regina reaches out and grabs Emma’s hands, holds them in her own to stop their frantic movements. “What are you thinking about?” she asks, almost tentative in the way she speaks, like she’s not certain she wants to know.

 

Emma’s expression turns to one of confusion as she responds, “Oh, nothing, really. Why?” Regina’s thumbs are stroking her hands, but she doesn’t answer. She’s searching Emma’s eyes again, and so her next question sort of just bubbles out of Emma’s throat without her consent. “What do you see when you look at me?”

 

The lack of understanding makes Regina’s forehead wrinkle. “Pardon?”

 

Emma’s shoulders feel heavy, as does her stomach, but the fingers that are still stroking her hands keep her feeling grounded. She clears her throat. “When you’re looking at me like that.” Her shoulder shrugs a little, her teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek. “You get this look, like you’re searching for something when you look at me. I don’t know. And, like, sometimes I wonder what you’re looking for. What do you find?”

 

“Oh,” Regina says slowly, and then her head tilts ever so slightly and she’s doing it again.

 

 _“That_ look.” She groans a little and feels like she’s under a microscope, like Regina can see every cell that makes up who she is. She squirms.

 

Regina blinks and moves her eyes off Emma’s face and looks down at their hands instead. “The most common reason for me looking at you that way is because I am trying to figure out if you and I are on the same page – or I’m wanting to make sure that the next move I make is one that you would be comfortable with.”

 

Regina’s response settles the nerves in her stomach, and she says, just as slowly as Regina had done a few moments ago, “Oh.”

 

Regina lifts her eyes, a cautious look in them. “Oh,” she repeats.

 

Emma bites into her lower lip and breathes out through her nose as her shoulders fall and relax. “It’s just that, uh... This is going to sound stupid.” Emma pauses and then shakes her head, quickly deciding against what she was planning on saying. “Never mind.”

 

“Emma.” Two syllables, one name, but so much being said. Emma hears the  _you know you can talk to me without judgment,_  the  _don’t hide from me,_ and the slightly annoyed  _really, Emma?_ all at once.

 

Emma smiles a little to herself because  _this_ is the woman she gets to spend her days and nights loving, this woman who can just say her name and convey more than some can with ten times as many sentences.

 

She sighs, and then the words just tumble out of her mouth. “I never really cared what people saw when they looked at me. I got used to people seeing the worst in me, and it really didn’t matter. It was pretty much, ‘Who gives a fuck?’ You know? But with you... You ever want someone to look at you and think you’re  _everything?"_  Regina’s brow lifts slightly, and so Emma clarifies as she continues. “Like, just look at you and see something perfect and worth it, something that makes  _you_  worth it. When you look at me, I want that. I don’t want you to go searching for something and see all the ways I’m not perfect.”

 

There are times she appreciates Regina’s silence, when she enjoys just having Regina look at her and not feel obligated to fill the quiet with words. This is not one of those times. Each moment that goes by without Regina speaking makes Emma feel more on edge. She can hear every thundering clap of her heart loud in her ears, feel her pulse throbbing at her temples.

 

“Regina-”

 

Regina squeezes her hands and then brings them up to her mouth, holding Emma’s gaze as she kisses the knuckles on both of them. “Why do you feel as though you need to be seen as perfect in my eyes?” she asks carefully, the way she does when she’s trying to understand what’s going through Emma’s head. “Do you believe that is what I want you to be?”

 

Emma opens her mouth to speak, but then she suddenly closes it and frowns. Her thoughts are moving too quickly in her head for her to grab onto something to say to properly express what she is feeling, what she had meant.

 

Regina lets go of one of Emma’s hands and reaches over to stroke her hair, sliding through it before tucking it behind Emma’s ear. It makes Emma sigh and press her head into Regina, her eyes fluttering close. Regina’s hand slides down her face, warm fingertips light on her skin, and then tuck underneath her chin. Her eyes open immediately, locking onto the deep, deep russet ones that hold more emotions than Emma knows what to do with. It makes her feel a little breathless, her chest tight and jaws loose so she can take in a much-needed deep breath.

 

“How about we turn this around for a moment. When you look at me, tell me, Emma, do you see someone who is perfect?”

 

“Yes,” she answers too quickly, the word running out of her mouth and bursting free. Regina’s frown lines start to appear, and Emma licks her lips and rubs at the back of her neck with the hand Regina isn’t holding. “Well, no, not in the traditional sense of the word. No. You’re not. But to me –  _for me_  – Jesus, Regina, you’re  _everything._ Look at you. You’re intelligent and strong and, and you’re a terrific mother. Henry’s going to grow up to be this kindhearted, respectful,  _smart,_ loving person, and that’s all you.

 

“And, honestly, you’re so damn beautiful. I mean, sometimes I just get overwhelmed by it, by how beautiful you are. You’re...” she takes a deep breath and smiles sheepishly. “I’m not saying you’re not flawed – because you are, and those flaws make you who you are. I’m just saying that I love everything about you. I love your light, but I also know that the darkness doesn’t just go away because the light exists. So I love that, too. Your imperfections are part of what makes you perfect in my eyes.”

 

Regina takes a moment before clearing her throat, a noticeable sheen to her eyes that wasn’t there moments before as she blinks. “I’m nowhere near perfect, Emma,” Regina tells her, her voice thick with emotions.

 

Emma’s heart aches, and she can’t stop herself from slowly leaning forward and covering Regina’s mouth with her lips. She just needs to feel her, and she needs for Regina to feel her as well. She lightly brushes her lips over Regina’s top lip, and then the bottom, exhales her breath right against Regina’s mouth. It’s shaky but soft, and Regina’s eyes fall shut as Emma leans her forehead against hers.

 

“Neither am I,” Emma whispers, licking her lips.

 

“I don’t want you to be. I’m not accessing you when I’m looking at you. I’m not trying to determine whether or not I deem you worthy of something.”

 

Emma brings both of her hands to Regina’s face and just holds them there, lets her palms share the heat in Regina’s cheeks.

 

Regina slides her hands into Emma’s hoodie and wraps her arms around Emma, moving closer until she forces Emma to adjust her legs and she’s sitting on her thighs, holding on to her. She takes a measured breath and then slowly lets it out, body seeming to relax with the exhalation, like she’s just found some type of calm and everything has sort of settled around and inside her. Emma feels that same sense of peace, can feel her chest loosen and her heart rate slow down.

 

Regina slowly pulls back from Emma, and Emma blinks her eyes open to look at her. Regina smiles one of her slow smiles and rubs Emma’s back over her shirt. “You may not be perfect, but you are something that means a great deal more than that.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow lifts as she slides her hands down to rest on Regina’s shoulders. “I am?”

 

Regina gives her a slight eye roll. “Yes, dear, you are. You’re Emma.” Her eyes flick over to something behind Emma as she clears her throat. “Do you think what I want is someone who is perceived as perfect – someone who has not made any mistakes, whose past is spotless, who knows of nothing more than being good and right all of the time? If such a person could even exist, I can assure you that I would not be interested. I would most likely find them insufferable.”

 

Emma smiles at her and says, “You find me insufferable.”

 

“Only 98% of the time,” Regina tells her, the corner of her mouth lifting into a tiny smirk. “My point is, someone like that would not be capable of understanding the person I am today, and they especially wouldn’t understand the person I used to be. If we’re being honest here, I believe you understand who I am at my core better than anyone else ever has. You’ve been there for a lot of the moments where I’ve made decisions I am proud to have made that prove that there is more than darkness inside me, but you've also gotten a look at that darkness.

 

“You know of the horrible things I’ve done, and you neither automatically excuse them and pretend my past does not matter nor make me feel as though it’s all you think there is to me. That means more to me than some idea of perfection. You believed in me, Emma, in the good in me, when nobody else did and even I could not fully believe in myself. Your faith in me _– you –_ helped me believe in myself, and by doing so, you helped me be someone I could be proud of today, someone our son could be proud of.  _That’s_ the kind of person I want in my life – a person whose support and faith betters me, an equal, a partner, someone I can give that same support to when they need it. I don’t want perfection, just my Emma.”

 

Emma feels a flood of emotions sweeping through her, a rush that makes her smile uncontrollably as she cups Regina’s cheek in the palm of her hand. There are, perhaps, words that could express how much Regina means to her, describe the kind of effect what she had just said had on Emma. There are words that would probably translate into  _you’ve got me_ and  _I’m yours_ and a million other things that just don’t seem like enough. But Emma doesn’t need any of them, doesn’t need to say a thing to express how she’s feeling. She knows Regina can see it in the gleam of her eyes, knows it because Regina has this way of looking at her and smiling and letting Emma know that she understands – understands the things she doesn’t say, the feelings in Emma’s heart – understands  _everything._

 

And Emma understands that she doesn’t need to be perfect, doesn’t need to try to be someone she isn’t. She’s known that this whole time, but there are still moments when she feels like it’s what’s required of her. (Never with Regina, she reminds herself.) Emma doesn’t need to be perfect because she’s already enough. Regina doesn’t want her to be anything more or less than who she is, and that means everything to her. And Emma means everything to Regina, she thinks with a grin that just won’t leave her face. She doesn’t say it in the same words, doesn’t use Emma Speak, as Henry likes to call it, but she’s just told Emma everything she needs to know that proves it.

 

Emma’s lost in Regina, trying to figure out how she managed this, managed to find so much here in Storybrooke, with Regina and Henry and her parents, how every day she finds herself surrounded by people who love her for who she is. She’s lost, looking into the captivating eyes that never fail to pull her in and hold her hostage. She’s lost in the sound of even breaths and the feeling of warm fingers slipping underneath the back of her shirt to stroke her back. She’s lost–

 

No.

 

Emma brings her hands up to Regina’s dark hair and rakes her fingers through it. She’s not lost. She’s never been less lost than she is with Regina. She’s where she belongs. She’s at the place where she feels safe and loved and can just be herself. She’s home.

 

She stops worrying herself about losing everything that means the world to her.

 

She stops questioning how she got so lucky to have found it all in the first place.

 

She stops.

 

Everything stops.

 

Everything stops but the thing that cannot be stopped – the love that she feels wrapped around her.

 

She’s still surrounded by love, a love that is real and true and causes her no harm. Regina’s love for her does not come with conditions nor expectations, does not require her to sign over part of herself before she is allowed access to it. Regina’s love does not flicker or waver, does not make an appearance one day and then disappear for weeks and leave her feeling empty in the place Emma had made for it inside her heart. Regina’s love is honest and pure and the most profound kind of love Emma has ever felt – and feel it she does.

 

She can feel it like something physical, feel it running through her veins and warming her on the inside. She can feel it like a bubble around her, thick in the air, like an eternal golden light surrounding her. She can feel Regina’s love when she brings her hands up to Emma’s face and caresses her cheeks before leaning in slowly and pressing their lips together, the softest of touches, the warmest. Regina kisses her like she’s precious and fragile, and Emma has never known something that should make someone sound weak make her feel so strong and powerful. She brings Regina closer to her, and when Regina sighs against her mouth, she feels it then, too, the love that Regina keeps on pouring into her like she’s overflowing with it and wants to store it somewhere safe – and that somewhere safe is in Emma.

 

Emma’s eyes flutter shut and she takes her time to return each soft kiss pressed to her lips, in no rush to speed through any moment she has with Regina. Her favorite memories of them alone together lately have been the ones where time feels as though it has stopped and she has no responsibilities to worry about, the moments where she can enjoy the small things like the way Regina’s breath feels against her skin. She wants that more than anything as she slides her lips across Regina’s slowly and makes the brunette’s breath shake as she exhales it against Emma’s mouth.

 

It’s Regina who guides them to lie down, straddling Emma’s hips and looking at her with dazzling eyes that seem to twinkle for a moment before she leans down and connects their mouths once more. Smooth lips graze hers, accompanied by a soft stream of air that makes her wet lips tingle ever so slightly. Emma makes a noise in her throat and threads her fingers through Regina’s hair, silky strands slipping between her fingers as she tries to bring Regina closer.

 

“Shh,” Regina whispers when Emma makes another noise when Regina doesn’t move to her mouth like she wants. She glides her lips over Emma’s cheek and her jaw instead, the heat of her mouth warming Emma’s skin. She drops random kisses to each side of Emma’s face, lingering here and there, breathing in and then out as she moves to brush her lips somewhere new.

 

Emma’s eyes open to look at Regina, unsurprised to find Regina’s own tracing her face. Emma licks her lips and leans up, wanting to have Regina kissing her again, wanting the soft pressure of Regina’s mouth on her. Her heart beats steadily, calm for the moment. Regina tilts her head and shifts so that her weight is leaning on one arm, and then she tucks her own hair behind her ear and leans down like she’s going to kiss Emma – but she doesn’t. She keeps her eyes locked on Emma’s and hovers over her lips, the closeness of her mouth taunting Emma because she wants to be kissing Regina so badly. But when she lifts her head, so does Regina, moving away with a tiny smirk that Emma finds far too sexy to be annoyed by.

 

She lifts her head again, but this time she holds Regina still with the hand on the back of her head. “Kiss me,” she breathes out, their lips almost touching.

 

Regina groans a little in her throat and slips her tongue between her lips and runs it along Emma’s lower lip. Emma’s lips part for her, and then they’re kissing again, slow and deep and like they can’t possibly get enough of each other. It makes Emma feel dizzy and breathless, and soon her hands are sliding over Regina’s body, palms heavy as she moves to the curve of her ass and gives it a squeeze. It causes this low, throaty moan to leave Regina’s mouth and fill her own. Emma answers the sweet sound with a groan, sucking a lip into the heat of her mouth and teasing it with her teeth.

 

It’s the first time they’ve laid together in the middle of the day like this, kissing as though they have nothing of more importance to worry about. (They don’t. The only person they’d both put before the other is safely camping for the weekend with several adults present.) And Emma’s enjoying every second of just being able to kiss Regina, enjoying every sensation, every touch, every soft sound she can pull from Regina’s throat just by kissing her and running her hands over Regina's clothed body.

 

But soon she needs more, needs to feel skin beneath her fingers and against her.

 

They slowly roll over until Regina’s on her back. She breathes out a loud breath through her nose and tilts her head back, whispering Emma’s name while inviting gliding lips to her neck. Emma happily moves her lips down to Regina’s throat, featherlight as she creates a trail of kisses that make Regina sigh.

 

Emma can feel Regina’s hands pulling at her hoodie like she’s trying to get it off of her, so she lifts up long enough to help her take it off and then throw it aside. The moment it is gone, Emma buries her head in the warm spot between Regina’s neck and shoulder that she loves so much. She can hear Regina’s breaths gradually speeding up, and as she begins pressing small, gentle kisses to the side of Regina’s neck, those breaths only become heavier and faster.

 

With her arms bare, the fingernails trailing up and down her biceps cause a pleasurable sensation to travel along her skin. She releases a pleased sound between the kisses that she presses to Regina’s smooth neck, sucks and nibbles when Regina starts scratching lightly. That makes her entire body react, the feeling of Emma’s slowly sucking where she knows Regina likes it. Emma grins and does it again at another spot, and then another, and another, sucking and nibbling her way all the way down to Regina’s chest. Regina is warm and soft everywhere, and Emma needs to know how every inch of her tastes.

 

But before she gets the chance to start working the four or five buttons on Regina’s shirt undone to continue her exploration with her mouth, Regina pulls her back up to her for another kiss. It’s something Emma learned weeks ago – Regina loves to be kissed, and Emma can’t get enough of the soft moans that spill out of her mouth when their lips touch.

 

Their passion burns like a roaring fire between them, breaths hot and heavy as their lips press and slide and get caught between teeth. Emma rocks her hips down into Regina and pushes a hand between them as she seeks out the smooth skin beneath Regina’s clothing. Regina seems to have the same idea, the same want to be able to feel more of Emma. Her hands are sliding up Emma’s back, on either side of her spine, the thin tank top she’s wearing being pushed aside.

 

Their moans blend together in the air, between their lips every time they separate to catch their breaths, Regina’s soft and low ones that are more breath than sound meeting Emma’s hungrier-sounding ones. She feels hot everywhere, feels like she’s wearing too much. Regina’s hands tugging on her shirt makes her believe the other woman believes the same.  

 

“Take this off,” Regina all but demands – but it’s breathy and more needy than anything else.

 

“I knew you would be commanding in bed,” she says with a throaty chuckle, grinning and stealing one more kiss from Regina’s lips before sitting herself up with knees on either side of Regina’s petite frame.

 

A slight smirk crosses Regina’s kiss-plump lips, and Emma feels a shiver crawl up her spine from the way Regina’s looking at her. There’s so much desire in her eyes, so much heat in her gaze as she waits for Emma to remove her shirt. Her breaths are heavy and make her chest lift and fall in a quick rhythm. Emma licks her lips as her arms cross her body and she grabs the hem of her tank top. She pulls it up and over her head slowly, her blonde hair falling down on her back as she reveals the bare skin that feels flushed with heat.

 

Regina’s throat constricts as she slowly swallows, and then her eyes drag up from Emma’s torso to her face for a brief moment before she moves them back down to Emma’s breasts. Her nipples pucker and tighten under Regina’s hungry gaze, and Emma can see the exact moment Regina decides she needs to be touching her. The hunger that burns like a fire in her dark eyes sends a rush of heat straight between Emma’s thighs, but it’s nothing compared to the way every inch of her suddenly grows hot when Regina’s hands slide up the plane of her stomach so she can take both of Emma’s breasts into her hands. Her abdominal muscles quiver at the feeling of confident hands smoothing their way up her body, and Regina hums a pleased sound as though she can feel the effect she has on Emma.

 

A deep moan falls from her parted lips as she arches into the warm touch. She looks down and watches the hands that gently squeeze her breasts and sucks her lower lip in between her teeth, arousal coiling tight in the pit of her belly. She brings her own hands up to Regina’s and squeezes tighter, wanting to be able to  _really_  feel Regina touching her, her hard nipples rubbing against smooth palms. She has been touched by these strong hands many times before, knows what they are capable of and how incredible they can make her feel – but this is the first time Regina's hands have touched her to cause her sexual pleasure that will not have to be ignored nor taken care of by Emma herself, and Emma finds that she wants so much from Regina in this moment. So she squeezes Regina's hands around her breasts and lets another, deeper, longer, moan slip past her lips while her eyes move over to look at Regina. 

 

She runs her hands down Regina’s arms, over the sleeves of the cardigan that is covering skin she wants to be able to touch. It is because of this that she quickly finds herself changing her mind about what she wants to happen next, changing what's most important to her. Her want to feel and see more of Regina outweighs her want to be touched, but Regina’s hands feel incredible on her and the brunette doesn’t seem to want to stop touching her even as Emma tries pulling at the clothes she can’t remove without Regina moving her hands away.

 

When Regina catches the sensitive peaks of Emma’s breasts between her thumbs and forefingers, Emma’s chest arches once more and her lashes flutter. She rolls her teeth over her lip and an uncontrollable shiver works through her body. Regina smirks, the kind of smirk she makes when she’s proud of herself for the reactions she receives from something she's done, and then twists the tight beads of flesh back and forth a few more times before squeezing as much of Emma’s the soft flesh she can hold in her hands. The pleasure it causes swirls around inside her and then settles low in her belly – and lower, down between her thighs where she can feel herself getting wet and hot and there’s a steady throbbing sensation that’s begging for attention.

 

“Oh, God,” Emma groans, feeling overwhelmed and needy and like every nerve in her body is being stimulated at once with exquisite pleasure.

 

A warm sensation starts at the base of her spine and crawls upwards. She feels her pulse quickening. Regina’s touch sends liquid fire running through her veins, and  _fuck_ does she enjoy every second of it. But she can no longer ignore the desperate need she has to have more of Regina. She has wanted for what feels like ages to get her hands on the tantalizing curves of Regina’s body, and now that she has the woman of her desires right beneath her, eyes full of lust, she can’t handle  _not_ touching her like she wants to.

 

She leans down and kisses Regina, kisses her so she can feel all the heat that’s claiming Emma’s body. Regina kisses Emma just as eagerly, hands everywhere – in Emma’s hair, on her shoulders, her breasts, running up and down Emma’s arms. Emma’s all gasping moans and shaky breaths, her own hands pushing up Regina’s shirt and trying to touch more of her skin. She can’t get enough of her, can’t  _feel_ enough of the inviting body whose skin feels so warm she  _needs_ to be touching it.

 

The clothes need to go.

 

It’s decided right then, and it’s probably the last thought she has that would make sense to anybody else for a long while. The cardigan goes first, the shirt second, her hands pulling at the fabric the only way one can when they have a burning need to get to the skin hidden beneath - with hands that grab and yank with an eagerness that Emma does not try to hide.

 

Regina stops her there, stops her to kiss her again and change their positions. It’s like the world is spinning spinning spinning when Regina kisses her, both of them on their knees, her naked breasts against Regina’s bra, their stomachs pressed together as Regina’s hands run up and down her strong back. Emma’s stuck between  _oh my god, this is happening_ and  _fucking finally._  There’s no in between for her; there’s only trying to breathe and needing to touch Regina everywhere.

 

Regina’s skin is burning up, hot like she’s just gotten out of the shower – and incredibly smooth beneath Emma’s gliding hands. She outlines Regina’s frame, hands on either side of her body, slowly dragging up from her hips, like soft silk teasing her skin as she lightly brushes over her waist, feeling her ribcage and then the edge of the black bra she is wearing. Regina’s teeth catch her lip when Emma rolls her thumbs over the cups of her bra, dig into the sensitive flesh of that lower lip when Emma takes Regina’s breasts and squeezes greedily. They moan together, deep moans that throw fuel into the fire of arousal that is burning inside of Emma.

 

She slips her hands beneath the cups from underneath, pushing it out of her way,  _needing_ to be skin to skin with her. Her fingers slide up and over Regina’s naked breasts for the first time, and Emma’s heart is probably pounding quicker than the one she can feel beat beat beating beneath her. Regina’s nipples are pebbled – and sensitive to even the lightest of touches, she already knows from sleeping with her – and they’re currently begging for attention.

 

Emma pulls away from Regina’s mouth with a groan, feeling a little dizzy as she blinks her eyes open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breaths loud in the air – so are Regina’s. Regina brushes Emma’s hair away from her face and looks at her with so much desire that Emma can only moan in response to it and then lean forward and roughly press her mouth to Regina’s once more, a hard press of her lips that’s a silent promise to take such good care of her body, to make sure Regina can feel every ounce of Emma’s love and want as she touches her. Regina gasps and seems to melt, her hands sliding over Emma’s shoulders and biceps and then pulling Emma’s hands from her breasts so she can squeeze Emma’s hands in her own.

 

When she releases Emma’s hands, she places them on her hips and then starts sliding them upward, giving Emma silent directions. She leaves Regina’s mouth and rubs her lips together, slowly stroking with a light touch up Regina’s smooth back, her fingertips sliding against heated skin. A tiny shiver moves through Regina and her eyelids drop for a moment as Emma’s fingers slip underneath the band of her bra, working back and forth and teasing the skin as Regina tries to keep her breaths somewhat even – and fails at it completely. It makes Emma grin, seeing the reactions Regina has to her touch, knowing that she, Emma, can be responsible for such raw, beautiful signs of pleasure. And that grin does not leave her lips as she unclasps the black bra and it starts to fall a bit down Regina’s slender shoulder.

 

She dances her fingers across well-loved skin until she gets to the straps, and then she pushes those aside while leaning down and kissing Regina’s shoulder. As she moves from left to right, she catches Regina licking her lips before pulling the lower one into her mouth, biting it as she watches Emma’s every move.

 

While Regina is watching her, Emma lets her own eyes take in the sight of the gorgeous woman before her. She runs her hands up Regina’s sides and licks her lips, her eyes taking a similar journey – across Regina’s toned stomach and then to her breasts, lingering there while Emma’s pale fingers circle over areolae and erect nipples. She rolls slow circles, spirals around each peak and flicks her eyes up, her lip tucked between her teeth as she searches Regina’s expressive face.

 

Regina traces her upper lip with her tongue and then moans softly, the sound spilling into Emma like the liquid fire it is. “Use your mouth, dear,” she says throatily, running her fingers through Emma’s blonde locks and arching her chest into Emma’s hands.

 

Her lips are on Regina’s skin instantly, kissing the tops of each breast that she’s squeezing. Regina sighs, and Emma smiles at the approval. Warm and wet, Emma slides her tongue between Regina’s breasts, holding Regina’s gaze the entire time, fascinated – and  _so_ turned on – by the look of complete pleasure washing over the brunette’s face.

 

“Yes,” she breathes in satisfaction, rubbing her lips together and stroking the back of Emma’s head.

 

Emma backs up on her knees and has to quickly reach down to the mattress to steady herself when she slightly sways a little. But the moment she’s certain she’s not going to topple over to the side, she kisses Regina’s stomach and glides her lips and tongue upward, not removing them from her body for even a second. It makes a wet trail, a trail that is soon full of goose bumps. Regina’s heavy-lidded eyes roll back ever so slightly as Emma drags her tongue over the curve of her breast and then pulls with her lips and gently sucks, her lips parted to release a string of soft moans, and it is one of the most beautifully erotic sights Emma has ever seen.

 

Regina’s fingers tangle in Emma’s hair and she rocks forward a little, holding on tight to Emma. “More,” she breathes, and there is nothing Emma wants more in that moment than to give her that, give her everything she wants.

 

She kisses all over Regina’s chest, holding herself with one hand on the bed and the other on Regina’s thigh, fingers curled into her skin. She catches a nipple in her mouth and groans when she feels the fingers in her hair pulling, searing heat spreading throughout her body. She sucks on the bud in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, pulling on it – gently at first, harder when Regina pulls slightly on her hair again, making Emma tingle from her scalp to the base of her spine.

 

She alternates between breasts, randomly kissing and sucking and biting, as eager to please as she is to make Regina keep moaning. On all fours, she gets pleasantly lost in the feeling of the brunette’s skin on her tongue, against her lips, closes her eyes and presses her face to Regina’s stomach and feels her shiver and scrape her fingernails over Emma’s scalp.

 

They move to the top of the bed when Emma’s neck starts to ache slightly from the way she needs to tilt her head up. Emma sits with her legs outstretched and her back against the headboard, and it’s with a small tug, Emma’s fingers pulling at the waistband of Regina’s pants, that she brings Regina to her. Regina places a knee on either side of Emma’s thighs and then slowly lowers herself down, her hands on Emma’s face.

 

Emma smiles at her and wraps her arms around Regina, wanting to just hold her for a moment. She moves to lean her head against Regina’s shoulder and the brunette lets her, kisses the top of Emma’s head. Emma returns the kiss against Regina’s clavicle and sighs softly against her, her heart rate gradually slowing down.

 

“Are you feeling all right, my dear?” Regina asks quietly, fingers gently running through Emma’s hair, nails lightly stroking her sensitive scalp.

 

Emma makes a pleased sound that vibrates inside her throat. “Just wanted to breathe for a minute. You feel good.” She turns her head up and kisses Regina’s neck. “I love you,” she mumbles.

 

Regina hums and drops another kiss down on Emma’s head. “I love you,” Regina repeats softly.

 

“Lucky me,” she says as she pulls back, smiling brightly.

 

Regina’s nose scrunches up a bit at the bridge, so Emma leans up and kisses it, and then kisses her right cheek, then the left. Regina makes an amused sound in her throat and a quiet laugh vibrates in her chest. Emma places her lips over Regina’s mouth next and holds them there until Regina’s fingers curl around the back of her neck and she opens her mouth and runs her soft tongue between Emma’s lips.

 

Emma sighs and parts them, and soon she finds herself once again lost in all that is Regina Mills.

 

Pants are removed, hands wander, breaths are stolen from the other woman’s lungs. They make a mess of the bed sheets and pillows as they roll around the bed, kissing passionately, slowly, roughly, deeply, speeding up and then slowing down, hands everywhere, bodies pressed together.

 

Emma never wants to leave the bed, she decides when she lays Regina down and the other woman smiles at her like she can see all the way down to her soul. It’s the kind of look that is always talked about in movies and books, the kind that leaves you breathless, a look Emma’s never actually seen directed at her until Regina’s deep, deep eyes are glittering with the last of the sunlight for the day and staring into her own. Emma shivers and lowers herself down to the bed, immediately pressing her mouth against the smile that makes her momentarily forget how to breathe – and the reason why she needs to.

 

With Emma above Regina, the two women kiss each other thoroughly, tasting the inside of the other’s mouth. Warm hands caress Emma’s nearly-bare body – brushing over her sides, fingers tracing her spine, knuckles grazing soft flesh, hands grasping Emma’s ass, pulling her closer, down to Regina as the brunette’s hips rock up to meet her. Emma can feel Regina everywhere and all at once, her damp underwear against Emma’s skin as their bodies meet over and over again. She’s drowning in pleasure, moaning uncontrollably, and feeling as though her body is buzzing from her head to her toes.

 

She moans into Regina’s mouth with each skillful touch, her body moving against hers, pressing, rubbing, gliding across the heated flesh beneath her.

 

Regina nips at her lip as her hands slide up and down Emma’s back and butt. Each stroke of her hands, light touch of her nails dragging against sensitive skin, pushes her deeper into the burning desire that she has already decided she is perfectly comfortable drowning in. Regina’s touch sets fire to her nerve endings and makes her blood rush. The passion in her kiss makes Emma’s heart race, beat excitedly, pound as though it can escape her chest and find the person responsible for making it feel so much at once, feel stronger and more full than it can remember ever feeling.

 

She breathes out harshly and breaks their kiss to bury her head in the crook of Regina’s neck. Her skin is even warmer than it normally is, and Emma can’t resist the urge to mouth at her there, to taste the slight taste of salt on her tongue and feel the erratic thumping of Regina’s pulse.

 

Regina sighs and breathes out soft sounds, and Emma is pulsing between her legs in response to all of it, turned on by the way Regina sounds, tastes, feels. Emma groans. Even the way she  _breathes_ makes Emma wet.

 

Emma lifts her body a little, feeling the air rush to cool her overheated skin, and brings one of her hands to Regina’s breast. Regina  _mmmm_ s when Emma kneads and massages while using her tongue to draw nonsense patterns all over her neck and clavicle. She hums when Emma lightly scrapes her fingernails around a hardened nipple and then rolls it between her fingertips. But Emma’s favorite response- -

 

(And she’s not even sure how she can pick a favorite when  _everything_ is perfect and making her feel alive in a way she can’t fully comprehend with her brain so cloudy.)

 

\- -is the way Regina moans her name, _"Em-ma,"_ slow and husky as Emma slides her hand down Regina’s abdomen, down, down, down until she’s at the waistband of black underwear, the waistband her fingers play with for a moment before slipping underneath. Regina’s all hot, wet flesh beneath Emma’s fingers, and she closes her eyes tightly and just focuses on the feeling of Regina as she slides her hand lower and touches her, head leaning down on Regina’s chest, the brunette’s heart a drum beating in her ear, and Regina’s arousal thick on her fingers as she strokes and rubs and  _feels._

 

She moves her fingers through the abundance of wetness that she easily slips through as she traces the folds of Regina’s labia, stroking up and down with a pressure that gradually increases in response to the way Regina’s hips twist and jerk against her hand. She’s so incredibly warm – and responsive, so damn responsive that it makes Emma moan like she’s the one being touch. Her head spins with dizzying pleasure as Regina whimpers –  _whimpers –_ Emma teasing at her entrance and around her clitoris, circling slowly with the tips of her fingers and then moving away, hips seeking out more every time Emma doesn’t touch her exactly where she wants it.

 

They both want more.

 

More, always more.

 

If the night needs a theme, that should be it, Emma thinks. Because she will never have enough of Regina, never enough time to touch her, never enough of anything with this woman who sighs and breathes out the sweetest of sounds and makes her feel both hot with desire and warm with love.

 

“These need to come off,” Emma groans to herself, the band of Regina’s panties against the back of her hand as she works it over Regina’s heated flesh.

 

The throaty chuckle-moan combo that Regina makes as she reaches down to her underwear makes Emma grin and give her clit a little attention, her fingers stroking the hardened bundle of nerves. “Oh God, yes,” Regina breathes out in a rush, her head tumbling back against the pillows.

 

Emma drinks her up like that: her neck stretched, her lips parted, dark hair spread across the ivory pillowcases. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” Emma whispers, wonderment and adoration making her sound breathless.

 

Regina lifts her head and looks at Emma, just looks at her. Emma smiles at her and shifts so she can get up, her fingers swiping through Regina’s wetness once more before she wiggles her hand free, making the brunette breathe out a quick breath as she does so.

 

“Lift your hips for me,” Emma requests from between Regina’s thighs, fingers hooked around the waistband of the other woman’s underwear. She leans down and drops a single kiss over the fragrant fabric that smells like the thick scent of arousal that has clouded their bedroom.

 

Regina hums and lifts up from the bed slightly, her eyes staying on Emma’s face the entire time. Emma flicks her eyes up to look at Regina, but Regina says nothing to her. Emma slides the panties off Regina’s thighs and then drops a kiss atop each of Regina’s knees before letting her eyes slowly travel over Regina’s completely bare body. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying the first thing that comes to mind.

 

_Fuck._

 

Emma’s brain knows no longer how to process any other words. Staring down at Regina’s naked body sprawled out before her, legs spread invitingly for Emma, she can’t possibly be expected to think of anything else beyond how damn  _delicious_ Regina looks. There is heat racing through her veins and desire thick in the air. Emma Swan wants nothing more than to duck her head down and taste the wetness that she is responsible for between Regina’s toned thighs, wants to kiss and lick the proof of Regina’s arousal.

 

Her eyes flick up to Regina, and there’s never been anything clearer than the words written in her eyes.  _Taste me._

 

Emma groans and lowers her head while keeping her eyes on Regina, not wanting to forget the look in her deep eyes when her tongue first makes contact with wet flesh. Regina’s eyes don’t leave hers either, are locked on Emma, are full of want and love and so much damn need that it’s making Emma’s head spin as she smoothes her hands down Regina’s thighs. There is nothing but heat and smooth skin beneath her hands, and Emma swears nothing will be more satisfying than spending the rest of her days getting lost in it.

 

Regina’s hips roll up as an invitation and her teeth roll over her lower lip, plump from being kissed and bitten so much. “Emma,” she groans, her voice low and her breath heavy. Her fingers tuck Emma’s blonde hair behind her ear, her touch as light and gentle as Emma has grown used to.

 

Everything else is forgotten when she hears the sound of her name. She wants to hear that all night long, her name falling from Regina’s lips. She wants for everything else around them to stop and for there to just be her and Regina there, the sound of her moaning in ecstasy and falling apart because of Emma –  _for_ Emma – the only thing that surrounds them as she lets her mouth and hands explore the heavenly curves and slopes of Regina’s body.

 

She groans and grips Regina’s thighs, pressing them open a little more as she leans down and sweeps her tongue out,  _needing_ to taste her as badly as Regina wants her to. She flattens it and then takes a full lick, soft and slow but not even a bit teasing or hesitant as she samples Regina’s richness.  _Delicious,_  she thinks, moaning right along with Regina,  _so fucking delicious._

 

She watches the way Regina’s eyes roll back, her lashes fluttering as the pleasure washes over her. And then Emma closes her own eyes and pulls her tongue back into her mouth to savor the taste on it. Regina is intoxicating, and it does not surprise Emma. Her head has been spinning deliriously since they first started kissing earlier, and it does not stop as her taste buds buzz from the taste she desperately wants more of.

 

Her cheek brushes against Regina’s thigh and her nose rubs against her heated skin as Emma hums in delight. She turns her face and kisses the inside of one thigh and then moves over to the other, feeling the muscles beneath her fingers flex. She smiles against the other woman’s skin and peppers her inner thigh with lingering kisses and small nips from her teeth when she gets the urge to pull the soft flesh between her teeth and make Regina’s breath hitch. She makes a trail from the top of one knee all the way down to the crease between Regina’s center and thigh. She runs her tongue up and down there and breathes in the strong scent of want and need – and groans loudly because Regina smells so good.

 

Eager hips jerk towards Emma at the sound of her groan, and she lifts her eyes up to look at Regina. Darkened eyes latch on to hers and both plead and demand, revealing the same desperation Emma already knows exist in her because of how wet she is. Emma lets her breath blow out across her heated flesh and listens to the soft sigh that floats from Regina’s lips. She smiles and licks her lips, shifting on the bed to get herself more comfortable. Regina does the same, propping up a little on her elbows and rolling her hips as she brings them closer to Emma.

 

It’s a request she doesn’t need to make, for Emma’s already rubbing her fingers over her mons and glistening folds. Emma has grown used to the heat that leaks from Regina’s body all the time, curls up to her in the middle of the night and absorbs it. But this, the wet heat that coats her fingers as she strokes her way up and down the brunette’s needy center, slips through her folds and touches her  _everywhere_ is nothing like that. It’s all somehow more, warmer, and Emma’s fingers want only to sink into that heat and explore it.

 

Regina nods, answering the silent question in Emma’s eyes as her fingers circle and tease at her opening. “Inside me,” she moans, licking her lips, hips twitching and fingers curling into the sheets.

 

Emma nods quickly and rubs her thumb around the bundles of nerves a little higher up. Her pulse rushes when Regina’s head tumbles back and she lets out a long  _oh_ that seems to stretch out forever. Emma turns her head and kisses Regina’s thigh and pulls the flesh into her mouth slowly, sucking as one of her fingers slides into Regina, twists so her knuckle grazes sensitive flesh, and then pulls out so a second one can join it when she thrusts back in.

 

Regina’s breath shakes when she moans, and Emma’s body feels overheated because of it. She can hear how wet Regina is, feel the thick fluids on her fingers as she moves in and out of her, rubs from side to side, testing out what Regina likes best. She's tight and hot around Emma's digits when she wiggles the tips of them and caresses a spot that's obviously one Regina likes having stimulated. Emma curls her fingers when she thrusts, teases the pulsing walls that wrap around her when she moves her head over and kisses and licks Regina’s clit. She grins and confidently manipulates Regina's senses, making Regina clench and rock her hips as Emma picks up an easy rhythm.  

 

She doesn’t speak much during sex – and neither does Emma, especially when she’d rather be getting lost in all the sounds around her – but she moans and pants a lot. Emma loves it.

 

Seconds feel like they go on forever, and she wants them to. She wants to be able to stay there and enjoy the way Regina responds to her touch, revel in the fact that she is the one responsible for making Regina breathless and sweaty as her body moves to meet Emma’s every thrust, rolls up to her tongue when she’s licking her, trembles when Emma’s sucking and moaning right against Regina’s clit.

 

Emma shuffles again on the bed and catches Regina’s eyes. She rubs both her hands up Regina’s stomach and then over her hips, thumbs stroking the tops of thighs as Regina watches her with eyes that don’t move away for even a second. Emma bends her head down and lets her tongue snake out. She then slowly drags it between wet folds, taking a playful long lick as her eyes gleam.

 

Regina’s eyes twinkle, dark and needy, but still full of that adoration that makes Emma feel warm inside. She reaches down and lovingly strokes the top of Emma’s head and then her face. Emma turns her head and catches Regina’s fingers with her lips and brushes across the tips of them. She nips at one with her teeth and sees a flash of something in Regina’s eyes, something that moves too quickly for her to interpret.

 

“Emma,” Regina whispers in a raspy voice, moving her hand back to the top of Emma’s head.

 

Emma grins and licks her again, right over her clit. She swirls her tongue around Regina’s clit and hears her moan, feels hips raising slightly to her mouth. Emma grunts and slides her hands over Regina’s thighs and moves down to hold her hips, squeezing them while taking another long lick up and then down the wet flesh beneath her mouth.

 

The sound of Regina pulling in a sharp breath and saying her name again makes Emma groan against her. “That’s so hot,” she mumbles, letting her eyes fall shut as she breathes in Regina’s heady scent. "The way you say my name. Fuck."

 

Regina groans. Emma rubs her lips over her mons, kissing all over her, sucking when she reaches her engorged clit, waves of heat washing over her own body as the brunette’s breaths become shallow and her back arches away from the bed a little.

 

She needs a lot of direct contact against her clit to come, Emma has figured out, so she never lingers there too long. She’s not ready for that, not yet. Oh, she wants to make Regina come –  _really_ wants to be able to experience that with her – but getting her there is proving to be too arousing for her to let Regina fall over the edge.

 

So, Emma lets the tip of her tongue run circles around Regina’s opening. She opens her eyes when fingers pull on her hair and watches the way Regina’s body quivers ever so slightly. She presses her tongue flat against Regina and begins to massage her entrance before pushing in and wiggling, surrounded by velvety warm flesh.  _Emma’s_ eyes roll from how amazing it feels.

 

So do Regina’s, a throaty moan bubbling out into the bedroom and hitting Emma right between her legs where she’s throbbing and undoubtedly absurdly wet.

 

Emma’s never wanted to drown herself in anybody else the way she does with Regina – not sexually, romantically, or any way at all. But she so often finds herself wanting that with Regina, to connect with her, to sink into her, to lose herself in Regina and know that she isn’t really lost at all.

 

That’s what she does as she closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of Regina moaning and breathing and starting to mumble incoherent words under her breath. (It means she’s getting close – that’s when she’s most vocal, when she speaks even though it’s mostly buried beneath moans and loud breaths.)

 

That’s what she does as she licks and kisses and sucks and lightly runs her teeth over sensitive flesh, cataloging each reaction she can feel Regina’s body making so she knows what she likes the most.

 

That’s what she does as she slides her hands up to Regina’s breasts and squeezes and massages and plays with nipples until they’re hard and Regina’s moaning her name while arching into her.

 

“Emma. Emma. Emma,” the sweetest of sounds, her name leaving Regina’s mouth over and over as Emma pleases her, tongue stroking enthusiastically, mouth working over Regina’s clit, Emma wanting nothing more than to give Regina pleasure.

 

She wraps around the sensitive nub and moans lowly, swimming in her own pleasure as she begins lightly sucking. Her tongue flutters against Regina’s clit and then stills so her lips can work against it, sliding over the beaded flesh and mouthing noisily at it. It gives her the most intense rush when Regina rides up into her face and combs her fingers through Emma’s hair, holding her, guiding her, not letting her go.

 

“Stay,” Regina moans when Emma starts moving her tongue over the side of her clit. “Don’t–  _Yes._ ”

 

Emma takes her orders, understanding perfectly what Regina wants, and follows them with an eager tongue. She licks steadily right where she is, matching the pace of her tongue with the fingers that rub her scalp and the heavy breaths that grow in volume the closer Regina gets. It’s more arousing than her moaning to Emma, the sound of her breathing. Her breaths are shallow and shaky, and Emma can tell how close she is to falling apart completely from the different sounds of them.

 

She rubs the sweet spot that’s making Regina’s thighs shake and just watches –  _watches_ because the way Regina’s body twists and trembles lightly isn’t something one can look away from, and Emma wouldn’t even want to if she could. Regina goes silent, her breath stilled, and then she gasps and pulls with the fingers in Emma’s hair, tight tight tight, so hard that it hurts more than she had expected it to. But still she watches, drinking up every second of Regina while her body is in spasm and she’s making this new sound in her throat that Emma’s never heard that’s stuck somewhere between a satisfied purr and a deep groan.

 

Once Regina relaxes and her legs straighten out on the bed, Emma lays her head down on Regina’s warm stomach and listens to her catch breath for a moment. Regina absently strokes her scalp, where it tingles and hurts a little, and she doesn’t move until Regina stops.

 

She kisses her way up Regina’s chest, her tongue tasting the saltiness of Regina’s kiss. Regina’s breathing is still a little heavy in Emma’s ears as she moves closer and closer to her destination. Her tongue traces the brunette’s collarbone, her teeth gently nip at the side of Regina’s neck, and just as Emma can feel the other woman’s heart pounding so hard against her that it probably feels like it can push through her chest cavity, Emma brings her lips to Regina’s ear. She trembles beneath Emma as the blonde’s hot breath falls upon her ear and then she murmurs, almost shyly, “I love the way you taste.”

 

Emma feels Regina’s nails digging into her shoulders, holding her close. She breathes out a rough breath and then licks the shell of Regina’s ear, moaning right with Regina. She can listen to that all night, the soft, throaty sounds that leave Regina’s throat when she’s enjoying the things Emma does to her body. She sucks and nips at Regina’s ear, and then her jaw, dropping sweet kiss down on her heated skin after each little bite. She tastes of sweat and faintly smells of it when Emma moves down to her neck – but the warm Regina scent that Emma loves is stronger, and Emma breathes her in as she begins kissing her there.

 

She moans, still out of breath when she strokes the back of Emma’s head. Emma practically purrs against Regina’s neck in response.

 

Too soon that feeling is gone and she can feel Regina’s hand sliding down her body. She trembles uncontrollably; all the nerves in her body have already been awoken, have been repeatedly stimulated throughout the evening, and now all she can do is tremble as Regina’s nails rake over her skin and draw lines of passion across her back and thigh.

 

“Touch me,” she whispers against Regina’s neck. “Please, Regina. Touch me.”

 

Regina answers her with a deep moan as she works her hand between them and curls her fingers against Emma’s heated flesh, slipping right past the sticky wet underwear she's still wearing. “Here?” she questions, rubbing through Emma’s wetness.

 

“Fuck,” Emma curses into the crook of Regina’s neck. She nods her head against her and answers, “Yes! God, yes, right there,” while Regina firmly rubs her fingers over Emma’s clit with purpose.

  
And she knows she won’t last long, can already feel the tension building low in her stomach and something dark and tempting swirling inside her – but she also knows that the night is far from being over and they’ve barely gotten started learning each other’s bodies.

.

 

.

 

.

 

“This isn’t a competition,” Emma groans out as Regina flops down on the mattress beside her and Emma rolls over onto her stomach so she can feel the air on her sweaty back.

 

Regina chuckles and sweeps her hand up Emma’s back. She leans over and catches Emma’s ear between her teeth and nibbles on it, making Emma moan instantly. “That’s only because I would be winning if it were,” she teases in a husk that sends shivers up Emma’s spine.

 

Emma’s too exhausted to roll her eyes. “If losing makes me feel this good, I think I’m willing to crown you the champion. I’ll bow down and all that later.”

 

Regina kisses Emma’s neck softly – the very thing that started what preceded her last orgasm – and whispers against Emma’s skin. “I’m already a queen, my dear. You don’t need an excuse to worship me.”

 

And Emma groans and rolls over and pulls Regina to her for a long, long kiss that is sure to lead to something that will leave one (or both) of them seeing proverbial stars.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma feels her skin prickle as Regina’s nails run up and down the outside of her thigh and her hip. She shuffles her head closer and flicks her eyes up to Regina’s, her heart swelling with love for the woman who’s looking back at her with eyes that hide nothing from Emma. She smiles and presses her mouth to Regina’s for a brief kiss, and then she runs her own hand over Regina’s cheek and neck, her fingertips delicately brushing over the warm skin.

 

She presses another kiss to her mouth and then disappears underneath the single sheet they’re under. She pushes Regina’s shirt up towards her breasts and then lays her head down on Regina’s bare stomach. She rubs her cheek against the warmth she finds and closes her eyes, breathes out softly, and then turns her head to press her lips to smooth skin.

 

“Are you staying down there?” Regina asks with a hint of a smile in her voice.

 

Emma nods against her and curls an arm around Regina. She just wants to hold Regina close and bury herself in the warmth that Regina always has way too much of for her one petite body. It's only fair that she shares it, honestly.

 

The sheet is slid down to reveal Emma’s head, and then fingers move to her hair without prompting. “Have you finally been worn out completely?”

 

Emma nods again, grinning lazily as she slowly turns her head the other way so she can look at Regina, who is propped up a little with pillows beneath her. The faint golden lamplight is on her face, making her skin glow and her rich brown eyes sparkle. Emma reaches up and caresses Regina’s face again – because sometimes she looks at her and it feels like a dream, and she just wants to remind herself that all of this is real.

 

Regina takes her hand and kisses her palm and fingers, smiling softly down at Emma with enough love to make Emma's chest glow with it for the rest of her days.

 

Emma breathes out a happy sigh and feels every part of her melt. “I might fall asleep on you,” she admits, her eyelids feeling heavy, her voice raspy.

 

“Again,” Regina points out with a little smirk that makes Emma’s cheeks warm. She moves her fingers in slow circles at the nape of Emma’s neck and smiles when the blonde makes an approving sound in her throat. “Comfortable?”

 

Emma nods, her face rubbing against Regina’s stomach. “You?”

 

Regina slides her fingers into Emma’s hair and scratches her nails over scalp gently and says, “Very.”

  
Emma sighs and lets her eyes close, surrounded by warmth and comfort and feeling as safe as one can possibly ever feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: tender kisses when one brings home flowers for the other


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that [this gorgeous cover](http://devonking.deviantart.com/art/Thatcounted-603734146) exists. Because sometimes I stare at it and get really emotional because it's perfect and represents the image in my head so perfectly. Fan art is my favorite, honestly, and I just want everyone to appreciate the amazing people who spend time bringing life to images that we can only see in our heads.

**tender kisses when one brings home flowers for the other**  

 

The weekend comes to an end far too quickly, and soon Emma finds herself rubbing bleary eyes as the pad of Regina’s feet fills her ears. Emma hates Monday mornings. It’s like coming home from vacation and then being thrust back into work. It wasn’t until her weekends were filled with fun activities with her family that she actually loathed getting up and ready on Monday mornings. In fact, she used to actually enjoy the Mondays she had work to do. There was a time that her work was all she had going for her, but that was no longer the case – now it takes a backseat to the time she spends with her loved ones.

 

Emma rolls over onto her side, not yet ready to leave the bed, and watches Regina move around their bedroom. She yawns largely behind her cupped hand and then wraps her arm around a pillow and holds it to herself; it’s Regina’s, and she shamelessly buries her nose in the plushness and breathes in the soothing scent.

 

Regina’s Monday routine is a little different from the rest of the week. It’s really just one thing that makes Monday different, but that one difference is something Emma always notices. She stays in her bathrobe longer, like she has Emma’s same desire to stay in bed but also knows how valuable her time is and that she can’t afford to lay around when her mornings start as soon as the alarm clock goes off.

 

Emma first thought she liked the mornings where Regina – who _always_ starts getting ready at least thirty minutes before Emma even considers getting out of the bed – walked around the bedroom without yet having her clothes properly fixed for the day. (A camisole tucked neatly into a skirt, her dress unzipped and exposing her back, shirts left completely unbuttoned but tailored pants sitting perfectly on her hips – even if her hormones didn’t know how to handle that last one.) But she’s come to think that she likes this more – the way Regina’s wet hair curls from the shower, the way the terrycloth looks as it dusts her bare legs when she walks, the way Regina doesn’t carry any tension in her shoulders and she looks terribly comfortable while going back and forth from the bedroom to the en-suite.

 

It’s a rainy morning, and a rather peaceful one. Raindrops drum against the window and fill the room with their calming music. It’s another reason Emma wants to bury herself in bed and not get up. She finds peace in the sound of the rain, beauty in the gray sky. While a lot of people associate rain with gloom and sadness, Emma does not. The rain makes her think of hot chocolate with cinnamon sprinkled over whipped cream, warm blankets, and curling up in the corner by the window with a book. That was how rainy days had been spent in one of the houses she’d stayed at when she was younger, and even though she didn’t like thinking about how they had sent her back, there were memories like that which still made her feel warm inside.

 

Emma sighs softly and rolls over onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. “We should have a sick day – you, me, the kid.”

 

Regina makes one of those throaty sounds that isn’t quite a laugh but is pretty close to it. “Correct me if I’m wrong. But did you not just spend the majority of the last 48 hours in bed?”

 

Emma sits up on her elbows and looks at the back of Regina’s head. “Yeah. But here’s the thing: I could spend all week in bed if I had the right company – obviously you, or both you and Henry – and still want more time doing that.”

 

Regina smiles over her shoulder and then turns away and heads into the bedroom, raising her voice a little to be heard over the sound of her rummaging through a drawer. “And what of our responsibilities, Sheriff Swan? Or have you forgotten that the townspeople are, to put it nicely, less than capable of handling dire situations on their own?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “They’ll figure it out. We can’t babysit a bunch of fairytale characters for the rest of our lives, Regina.”

 

Regina comes back out of the bathroom, working product through her hair as she looks at Emma thoughtfully. “When you finally get out of bed, go downstairs and look in the top drawer of my desk. There’s a folder with your name on it. Take it and have a look at what's inside.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow raises with intrigue and curiosity.

 

“While taking time off right now is certainly not an option – especially while Henry’s in school – I’m inclined to agree that we could all use a break.”

 

“So what’s in the folder?”

 

Regina gives her a half-smile and turns on her heels, disappearing into the bathroom. “You’ll find out once you leave the bed – and make sure you make it before going downstairs,” she tells Emma, and then the sound of the blow dryer fills the bedroom.

 

Emma doesn’t so much as get up from the bed as she does roll out of it. She stretches her arms up and backward and yawns so widely she can feel the pull in her cheeks. She gives her shoulders a shake and then picks up her hair elastic from the nightstand and puts her hair in a quick, terribly messy, bun. The bed gets made quickly, and then Emma slips out of the bedroom, scratching beneath her t-shirt where her stomach itches a little.

 

Mornings during the school week are either rushed and require coffee before Emma even mutters a word to either Regina or Henry, or slow because nobody really wants to leave the peace they had the day before behind. (Those require coffee, too, but Emma can at least pretend she’s a normally-functioning adult those mornings.) It’s a slow morning today, which is why she’s not surprised to find Henry still asleep when she knocks on his door to make sure he’s getting ready.

 

She rolls her eyes at the sight of Henry sprawled out on his bed when she pops her head into his room, limbs thrown every which way – definitely her kid. Normally she’d just throw back the curtains and let the sun wake him up, but the sky is cloudy and dark this morning. Instead, she nudges his shoulder and then gives him a little shake. (Regina does this with a gentler touch, and with a soft voice – but Henry also actually follows her quiet orders. Emma had tried that once and ended up with a face full of pillow.)

 

“Come on, kid. It’s time to get up,” she says, pulling him a little by his shoulder and arm.

 

Henry grumbles and pulls back. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles pleadingly into his pillow.

 

Emma rolls her eyes. She knows how this goes. If she allows the five minutes, it’ll turn into eight, and then ten, and soon Regina is glaring at _Emma_ like she’s the one who refused to get out of bed. She probably blames Emma for Henry always wanting to sleep, anyway. Emma’s an active woman, but she also enjoys a good nap, or staying in bed and letting her body naturally wake up on its own, or... Well, Emma enjoys her rest. She’s pretty sure Henry’s just being a teenager, though, always wanting to eat and sleep.

 

Henry rolls away from her and moves to pull a pillow over his head. She grabs it and stops him. “Oh, no you don’t. Up! The shower’s not going to come to you. Let’s go. Up!”

 

Henry whines in his throat and turns to look at her, half-pouty, half-sleepy aggravation. Yep. Definitely her kid. “I’m _exhausted._ I don’t think I can even keep my eyes opened long enough to make it to the shower. Do you want me to walk into a wall, Emma, and get injured, all because you wouldn’t let me have five more minutes to wake up properly?”

 

Emma wants to laugh, because _seriously?_ But she bites her cheek and shakes her head instead. “Not gonna work, Mister Melodramatic. Cut the crap and get up.”

 

“Ugh,” Henry groans, starting to stretch in the bed. “Fine. I’m up.”

 

“The shower water better be running in the next few minutes, or I’ll be back with ice cold water that will definitely get you out of the bed,” she tells him with her best serious voice, sternly pointing a finger at him.

 

Henry chuckles like he doesn’t believe her and gives her that _sure you will_ look. “I’m going. Promise,” he says, though, like maybe he's not willing to find out how serious she is.

 

Emma gives him one last look and then turns on her heels. “See you when you’re ready.”

 

She leaves his door cracked and heads down the stairs to the first floor. She makes a stop in the kitchen to put on some coffee, and then she goes to find the folder in Regina’s desk. She finds it between a folder of graph charts with numbers and budgetary information Emma’s brain doesn’t want to even remember exists this early in the morning and a folder which holds the plan Regina and Snow have been working on with Belle for a youth center, all labeled with Regina’s perfect penmanship. She pulls her folder free from the group and then closes the drawer with a cocked hip, leaning against the desk as she flips it open.

 

The first page is a printed out map with circles and asterisks made with different colored pen ink, about a dozen marks scattered along the East Coast. Emma's intrigue doubles immediately, and she doesn’t even bother reading the key at the bottom of the map to understand what the different kind of markings are. (And Emma is _not_ surprised even a little bit that Regina had made a key for the map, not at all.)

 

She thumbs through the printouts, a smile growing on her lips as she realizes what she’s looking at. There are event pages, directions, brochures, and everything is marked with little comments that Regina has made. There’s a car show and race in Pennsylvania that keeps her attention the longest; she’s grown to love classic cars and can’t get enough of muscle cars. Next, after flipping through with the intent to actually read through the pages, she finds information on a museum – which her nose wrinkles at until she continues reading, and _oh my god!_ Her eyes widen in what’s probably a comical manner as she greedily reads through the information on the International Spy Museum, the spy movie marathons she and Henry used to have back in New York in the back of her mind. The entire folder is _full_ of cool stuff that Henry and Emma love, she realizes, and she can barely contain her excitement by the time she gets to the last pages in the folder, a schedule that covers three weeks of July.

 

She closes the folder and brings it with her to the kitchen. She takes down two mugs, prepares coffee for both herself and Regina, and then brings them upstairs, folder tucked underneath her arm. Her belly is full of excitement, like there's something bouncing around inside her the way little kids in the middle of a sugar rush jump around.

 

At the bedroom door, she pauses, looking down at the mugs filled to their brims and then up at the closed door with a frown. She considers trying to hold both mugs in one hand, but a thought flashes in her mind and she quickly pushes that idea away, not wanting to accidentally spill scalding hot liquid on her skin.

 

“Regina,” she calls out instead. “Regina, can you come open the door for me?"

 

When there’s no answer, Emma’s frown pulls lower on her face. And then she rolls her eyes at herself and focuses on the doorknob until it turns and the door pushes open. She uses her magic so sparingly that she sometimes forgets she has it. With her bare foot, Emma pushes it open all the way and then deposits her coffee mug on the nightstand, the folder on the bed, and then closes the bedroom door.

 

She walks over to the bathroom, where Regina is performing her own kind of magic on her hair with a blowdryer and a round brush. She jumps ever so slightly when Emma appears in the mirror in front of her, but she smiles as she turns the loud hair appliance off and eyes the coffee Emma’s holding in one hand and covering the top of with the other.

 

She raises her brow and Emma presents her with the coffee. Regina wipes her hands on the robe she’s still wearing and then takes the mug, facing Emma with her back leaning against the sink. She blows and then drinks. She hums softly, rubbing her lips together and nodding, and then brings the mug back to her mouth for a bigger mouthful.

 

“I added a dash of cinnamon,” Emma informs her.

 

Regina’s eyes hold the smile Emma can’t see behind the mug. “I noticed.” She drinks a little more and then passes the mug back while leaning forward, like she does every morning Emma brings her coffee as she gets ready. “Thanks, darling,” she says as her lips brush Emma’s in a gentle kiss.

 

Emma grins at her. “I found the folder.”

 

Regina merely hums and turns away to face the mirror, going back to doing her hair.

 

Emma speaks as she walks out of the bedroom to put Regina’s coffee in its usual spot and to get her own. “So you really wanna do this, hmm? A road trip in the summer – seriously? Because I didn’t know if you were seriously considering it or not, but I’m totally in if you are.” She leans against the doorjamb, cradling her coffee in her hands, watching Regina do her hair.

 

Brown eyes flick up to meet Emma’s gaze in the mirror for a brief moment. “You saw the amount of planning that I have already done, did you not?”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve also seen the amount of planning that goes into Friday night dinner. You put a lot of planning into _everything,_  Regina,” she says with a fond smile. She likes how Regina is so thorough and prepared, even if Emma sometimes wants to tell her to just _do it_ and not think about it.

 

“One can never be too prepared,” she says as her posture perfects itself and she looks pointedly at Emma.

 

Emma hums into her coffee, the steam warming her face.

 

“Anyway.” She shakes her head and starts moving around the bathroom, looking for something with her eyebrows knitted a little. “We’ll have to find the time to sit down and go through the list of events I put together. Upon your feedback, we can make changes and then decide when to inform Henry of the trip.”

 

Emma nods, liking the sound of things – making plans for a family trip, her first family vacation; being part of the decision process for something that involves Henry; Regina’s ever present thoughtfulness that was clear in her choices of places they could consider visiting.

 

“I’ll bring lunch today and we can go over it then,” she suggests.

 

Regina starts to nod, but then she shakes her head in the negative. “No, that won’t do. I’m having lunch with Mal today to go over a business idea of hers. Tonight after dinner?”

 

Emma pulls a face at the mention of Maleficent – which goes unnoticed. It’s just a small twinge of jealousy, nothing serious, an automatic reaction to the mention of the woman’s name. She doesn’t let any real jealousy develop, knows that what Regina and the other blonde woman shared happened decades ago – before Emma was even born. Emma actually likes Maleficent, honestly – as much as she can like anyone who’s seen Regina naked and is still on good terms with her.

  
Emma takes a long pull from her coffee and then licks her lips, answering, “Yeah, sure, after dinner it is. I’m gonna go start getting ready.” She points behind her with a thumb and gives Regina a light smile when she looks over to her. “Let me know when I can get in the shower.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Henry looks up from the table when Emma and Regina come down the stairs, Regina putting her earrings in her ears and Emma texting while walking and ignoring Regina’s warning about not paying attention while going down the stairs. You fall one time when walking down the stairs – _once_ – and suddenly you’re going to fall every time you go up or down the stairs.

 

“Morning, Moms,” Henry calls out, closing his opened book and packing up his bookbag.

 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Regina replies sweetly – and Emma doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s smiling brightly.

 

Emma tucks her phone away in her pocket and smiles as Regina moves over to their son and kisses the top of his head before bringing their mugs into the kitchen. She goes behind Regina and wipes off the faint mark of the recently-applied lipstick that’s left on his forehead, and then she ruffles his hair. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

 

He gives her an unimpressed look at the name, and Emma grins in response. 

 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Regina asks when she walks back out from the kitchen, fixing the fitted black blazer she wears over her navy blue dress as she waits for his answer.

 

Henry throws his bag over his shoulders and shrugs them a little. “Pretty good. Before I went to bed last night, I finished working on the story I was telling you about," he tells Regina, sounding proud of his accomplishment.

 

“The one about the lost child in Manhattan?” Regina asks with a tiny smile, and Henry nods, her smile growing with pride as he nods. "That's wonderful, Henry."

 

Emma’s brow raises, but neither explain what they’re talking about.

 

“Will I be able to read this one?” Regina asks as she does what she does every morning. She works her fingers through his hair and makes it sit just right, places it just so, because Emma _always_ messes it up when she greets him in the morning.

 

“Maybe,” he answers simply.

 

“All right,” Regina accepts with a shake of her head. She places her hand on his back and leads him towards the door, glancing at Emma to check to make sure she’s ready. Emma nods, watching them with curious eyes for a moment before noticing Regina’s raised eyebrow and smiling at her reassuringly.

 

The three of them put on their jackets, and then umbrellas are grabbed from the closet. Some mornings they drive into town together, depending on how their days are expected to go. If they’re planning to be out of work around the same time, then they’ll take Regina’s car since Emma drives the cruiser during her working hours. Today, Emma is planning on staying later into the evening than she normally does to work on cleaning up the filing. Not wanting to make Regina have to wait for her if the mayor’s day ends earlier than her own, Emma takes her own car while Henry rides with Regina.

 

The drive to the diner is a quick one, even with the rain slickening the streets that are a little quieter than normal with everybody avoiding the rain as much as possible. When they arrive, Regina parks a few cars ahead of Emma and then she and their son wait for Emma to jog over to where they’re huddled under an umbrella, waiting for her. And it’s nice, the three of them hurrying up to get inside because the umbrella is definitely not large enough for all of them and Regina just spent _forever_ on her hair and Emma will not hear the last of it over breakfast if Regina’s hair gets too messed up because of the weather – like _Emma’s_ in control of the rain.

 

The bell chimes when they enter, raindrops dripping off their umbrella, shoes wet. They get a stern look from behind the counter, and Regina, who’s already carefully placing their umbrella with the rest of the wet umbrella’s, hides an eye roll from the waitress as she turns away. Emma smiles sheepishly and wipes her boots on the mat – it doesn’t really do much since the mat is almost as wet as the ground had been outside. Henry’s already rushed off to the table where Snow and David are waiting for them with Emma’s baby brother in Snow’s arms, bundled up in warm clothes and a blanket. He’s sleeping, which is probably a blessing since he, just like Emma, loves the rain and watches it with big eyes and makes cute gurgling sounds that grow in volume when the rain beats louder against the windows.

 

“Is everything all right?” Regina asks her quietly in her ear as she places a hand on the small of Emma’s back and moves her away from in front of the door.

 

“Hmm?” Emma’s eyebrows knit together as she brings her eyes away from her parents and brother.

 

Regina tilts her head towards the table. “You were thinking about something,” she says in a way that suggests she wants Emma to explain what had just been on her mind.

 

Emma sometimes zones out for a few moments, and Emma notices that Regina seems to worry when she does it, even if Regina doesn't admit that worrying is what she's doing. So she gives her a reassuring smile and leans into Regina’s side for a moment, the two of them standing off to the side but out of the way. “Just about the little one and the rain,” she admits. The smallest things take her attention and hold it hostage sometimes, but it’s usually a good thing, she thinks, because it means there are no bigger issues for her to be worrying about.

 

Regina nods, accepting her answer, looking at Snow and David. David’s grinning widely as he looks at Snow and the baby, his arm on the back of Snow’s seat, his body turned into hers.

 

“They’re nauseating, aren’t they?” Emma whispers somewhat conspiratorially into Regina’s ear, the brunette’s hair tickling her nose.

 

Regina smiles and moves her hand to squeeze Emma’s hip. “While I would normally agree, I will refrain from doing so because I’ve just realized something.”

 

Emma’s eyebrow climbs towards her hairline.

 

Regina looks at Emma for a moment, studying her face like she’s reading it. “You’re a lot like your father.” Her nose scrunches up when she says it, like she doesn’t actually want to admit it. “That look on his face right now, I recognize it – but it is not only the look that he wears when he’s looking at Snow and your brother. That is also the look you get when you’re looking at Henry and myself at times.”

 

Emma focuses on her parents as Regina makes her way to sit beside Henry, the smiles etched across both of their faces, the happiness and love that is undeniably just _there,_ and that look, that _I’m the luckiest person alive_ look on her father’s face. Emma’s cheeks warm with a blush. She’s not that obvious, is she? She’s not like that.

 

She turns to where Henry and Regina now sit and feels warmth spilling into her chest, her heart full and heavy with love. She has no control over her cheeks as they lift, her eyes as they soften. And, okay, yeah, maybe she does have that same look. But Regina and Henry are talking and smiling together, and there’s a seat waiting for her to occupy it at the table, and how could she _not_ feel lucky to be a part of that?

 

Regina looks up at her and winks, and Emma’s belly flips, dips, and swoops as she grins back at her.

  
Maybe they are just as nauseating as her parents. She didn’t think it was even possible.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“That was a long one,” David says when Emma enters the outer office of the Sheriff’s station.

 

Emma pulls her beanie from her head and stuffs it into her pocket before unzipping her jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack that sits atop a towel to collect the fallen water. “I stayed behind to talk to Regina for a few minutes,” she tells him.

 

David leans back in his chair and cocks an eyebrow. “How was the meeting?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Boring as hell. Fire Chief was out sick, so they sent in this kid who had a comment on _everything_ Regina said. And he had a mile-long list of issues he wanted to discuss. It was a nightmare.”

 

Her father gives her a sympathetic look. “Any information to pass along?”

 

“Already in your email. Regina prepared everything electronically, so it should all be there.”

 

“Perfect. And what about our scheduling issue? Did she speak to you about that again?”

 

Emma shakes her head and watches as David opens up a web browser on the ancient computer, her brow wrinkling. That’s another thing they need to work on. It’s time Storybrooke’s technology get up to date. Emma adds it to her mental list that should probably be turned into a physical list so she can make a proper proposal to present to Regina the next time she has a one-on-one meeting with her.

 

“I’m going to work on it, though,” Emma says a moment later, starting to walk to her office. “In the last couple of months, we’ve had less than a handful of incidents that required us both to be present, and none of those happened after five o’clock. I think we can figure out how to better manage both our time and funds. I mean, if there’s a way I can sleep in my bed every night...” she trails off with a chuckle they share.

 

“You’ll figure it out, Emma. You always do.”

 

Emma smiles at the clear signs of faith in her he displays as she sits down in her chair, pulls down her calendar, takes out a notepad, and gets to work.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

At the sound of a light rapping against her door, Emma looks up from the paperwork spread across her desk. A small surprised smile pulls at her lips when she sees Lily standing in front of the ajar door. “Hey,” she greets, putting her pen down and sitting up from her slouched position. “What are you doing here?”

 

Lily presents the take-out bag from Granny’s and then takes the two steps needed to bring her into the office. A few months back she'd taken a temp waitressing job at the diner, claiming it would just be for a few weeks until she left. A few weeks turned into a few months, and it had become obvious to everyone but Lily that she wasn't going anywhere. “I’ve been promoted from waitress to the Mayor’s personal delivery person, it would seem,” Lily says with a big eye roll as she plops the bag down on the desk.

 

Emma’s confusion makes her pause and stare at Lily, but then she picks up the bag and peeks into it and chuckles warmly before putting it back down. “I didn’t know Granny’s delivered.”

 

“We don’t – or at least _I_ don’t – but apparently nobody told that to your lady friend. Did you see the apple? She came in with that apple and insisted that I bring it to you along with the lunch she ordered for you. Who does that?”

 

“Regina,” Emma says with a small shrug and a widening smile. “It’s sorta her thing. She keeps them in her office – well, everywhere, really – and she always makes sure I have one with my lunch. An apple a day keeps the doctor away – and when Whale is the main physician in town..." she trails off with a lifted brow and a small noise of displeasure in her throat. "I can normally expect at least one of those a day."

 

Lily laughs and shakes her head from side to side, sweeping her long hair behind her ear. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Her laughter grows as she takes the apple out of the bag and examines it, turning it around in her hand. “The more I get to know these people, the more laughable all the Disney movies become. First, I find out I have a fire-breathing dragon for a mother who caused hell but turned out to be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Now this, an ex-evil queen who slaughtered villages and poisoned your mother with _an apple_ is sending you fruit and lunch to work because you didn’t come in to eat today.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders again. “People aren’t only the bad parts of themselves, and people also change.”

 

Lily tosses the apple up in the air and catches it. “Yeah, I guess. That doesn’t make it any less strange – but strange can be good.”

 

“Yeah, look at you,” Emma says as she grabs her apple from Lily’s hand. “You’re all kinds of strange and I still like you.”

 

“Bite me.” Lily looks around the office and stuffs her hands in her front pockets. “She really cares about you, you know?” Emma’s eyebrow arches. “Regina. I mean, I knew it from the day you almost shot me.” Emma grimaces a little, but Lily waves her off and continues, unperturbed. “Whenever I see her come in during my shifts to pick up lunch for herself and you’re not with her, she’ll subtly – and by subtly, I mean ridiculously obvious – ask about you, whether you’ve come in yet, or if I’ve seen you by any chance. It’s–”

 

Emma smiles at the face Lily pulls. “Nauseating,” she guesses, remembering looking at her parents at breakfast and Regina comparing Emma to her father.

 

“God, yes,” Lily groans with a teasing smirk. “But, I don’t know, sweet.” She shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, feeling her cheeks and heart warm automatically. “I think so, too.”

 

“I’m happy for you, you know?” Lily says, knocking Emma’s shoulder with her hand. “You’ve got the family you’ve always wanted, even if it didn’t happen the way you had hoped it would.”

 

“Is this where you tell me not to screw it up like I always do? Because I’ve been telling myself that almost every day.”

 

“Nah. It’s not you who messes shit up. It’s other people who fucked up things for you in the past – me, that kid who you told me about- -”

 

“Edward,” Emma groans with an eye roll, remembering the foster brother who had always lied about her and made her get in trouble for things he had done. She can’t believe Lily actually remembered Emma telling her about that.

 

“- -yeah, Edward, and all the idiot people who were supposed to be taking care of you and gave up, or just weren’t good enough. You weren’t to blame for the families you thought you had and then lost back then, and something tells me you’re not going to lose the one you have now.”

 

Emma reaches out and grabs Lily’s hand, smiling as she looks up at her, squeezing the hand of the only other person she had ever felt really understood her until she got to know Regina. “You’re not so bad, you know?”

 

Lily rolls her eyes and gives Emma’s hand a squeeze and then snatches it away, smirking at her. “Eat your lunch before it gets cold. The last thing I need is a witch with a bad temper coming after me because I didn’t make sure her precious girlfriend had a proper lunch.”

 

Emma chuckles. “I take that back. You’re terrible,” she calls after the brunette as she walks out of the office.

 

“I know,” she shouts back.

 

Emma chuckles a little to herself as she wipes her apple off. She hadn’t realized how much time had gone by in the day, or that she had even missed lunch. David had left a while ago to take his own lunch break when Snow had hers, the two of them using their lunchtime as a time to spend alone together. He had already come back and left again to work on the filing system they’re slowly trying to get in order. Emma had been busy all morning, and so it didn’t surprise her to discover it was already approaching two o’clock. Mondays were normally one of her busiest days at work, Mondays and Fridays.

 

When she takes a big, crunching bite of the apple, its sweet juices spill into her mouth with the chunk of fruit. She closes her eyes and moans a little, chewing it slowly to savor the sweet taste on her tongue. When did apples start tasting so damn delicious?

 

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket as she takes another bite, her tongue sweeping out of her mouth to catch the droplets of juice on her lips. She enters her passcode quickly and pulls up her text messages. She closes the opened application just as quickly and chooses her camera instead. She takes several pictures of herself biting the apple, pointing the bitten section of the fruit at the camera, and then a few of her giving Regina a thumbs up – she only needs one picture, but it’s hard deciding which one.

 

She settles on one where she’s biting it because her eyes look pretty and glimmer in a way that they don’t in the other photos. She sends the picture to Regina and then a simple text thanking her, and then takes another bite from the fruit and pulls out the rest of her lunch to see what she’ll be having. Emma usually picks out a sandwich for herself because it’s quick and she can eat it on the go, but Regina had sent her a hot meal. Emma’s hunger seems to multiply when she pulls the container out, doubling from the heat, tripling at the scent of delicious food.

 

Her phone vibrates against her desk as she opens the container and discovers the fish and chips she loves. She groans aloud, probably for the third time, and puts her half-eaten apple down so she can have one of the french fries and check her phone.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **The apple was meant for you to eat, not use it as a prop in photographs you shouldn’t be taking since you should be eating lunch.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I can multitask. I was BITING the apple in the picture. That counts as eating.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **You’re a terrible multitasker.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Am not.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Everything’s delicious, by the way. I didn’t realize I was even hungry.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Shocking due to the fact that you’re always hungry.**

 

Emma rolls her eyes and chews thoughtfully on her fish.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Did you finish your meeting with Mal?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **A few minutes before I received your text message.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Busy? Or can you talk for a little while?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Have you missed me, dear?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Nope.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Liar.**

 

Emma laughs and quickly types in a response before getting up to get a bottle of water stored in the fridge. (She has an endless supply of water bottles because of Regina, who insists she needs to stop pouring so much sugar into her body all the time.)

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I missed you just as much as you missed me.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Not much at all?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Sure...**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I admit that you have crossed my mind a few times today.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Oh really? So you have missed me? I knew it!**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I’d miss me too if I were you. I’m pretty great to be around.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **You’re impossible. Forget I said that.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I can’t forget that. I was on your mind. I know you’ve been busy as hell today, so if you’ve had time to think about me, it must mean I’m pretty special. I’m not going to forget that.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Special, indeed. However, that doesn’t change all the other things you are.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Amazing. Incredible. Funny...**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **A pain in the neck...**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Only when I’m biting it.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Get to work, Sheriff!**

 

Emma laughs alone in her office. It’s always nice to have a little break where she can talk to Regina, whether it be in person or through text messages. It brightens up her day, makes her feel lighter and restores some of the energy that has normally leaked from her body by this time of day.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **I am working. I told you I’m good at multitasking. I’m just reading over some reports and signing them as I finish my lunch. I can talk to you and do that.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I only have another fifteen minutes before I need to go over to the convent and meet with the blue wasp.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Paying your best friend a visit? How sweet.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Don’t you even joke about that, Emma Swan.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Fine. She can’t have the title anyway. It’s mine.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Is it now?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Duh. I’m not easily replaced either.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I wouldn’t dare dream of replacing you.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You wouldn’t?**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Of course not. As both my best friend and the person I spend building a life with, you are the most qualified for the position and the only choice I will make.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **How do you make everything sound so formal and still make me feel butterflies like I’m some teenager falling in love for the first time? I should not be blushing right now...or ever.**

 

Emma waits several minutes for a response. When she doesn't receive one, she guesses someone had started talking to Regina or something else that prevented her from responding. It wouldn’t be the first time one of their midday texting sessions ended abruptly, and it wouldn’t be the last.

 

But just as Emma’s getting herself to focus completely on her work, her phone vibrates on her lap.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I disagree. I am quite fond of the sight of you blushing.**

 

Emma feels the rush of heat that crawls up her neck and floods her face. A strange sound forms in her throat as her stomach twists and tangles. She’s grinning, and she can’t even try to stop the reaction shemakes to Regina's text.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **I have to go now. Thanks to you, I will at least start this visit in a good mood. I’ll see later this evening.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Try to leave Mother Superior in one piece when you leave. ;)**

 

Emma quickly takes a picture of herself, smiling at her phone, the color in her cheeks barely visible but noticeable enough. She sends it before adding in a message.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **In case you need a reminder that you make me smile like the idiot I am.**

 

She doesn’t expect a response, but she gets one in the form of a picture. It’s the first Regina’s sent her – it’s always Emma who sends Regina random photos of herself or things she finds amusing while they’re apart.

 

Regina’s outside of the convent, the sun that now shines brightly after the morning storm dancing in her eyes and hair. There’s nothing but happiness on Regina’s face, in her warm brown eyes, her smiling lips. _Fuck,_ she’s gorgeous, impossibly beautiful.

  
And all Emma can do is just stare at that beauty for a few moments.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You remember the first time we tried making a pie together, Mom?” Henry asks with a sly grin while julienning the vegetables.

 

A sudden burst of laughter leaves Regina’s throat and startles Emma, who is stirring the soup that’s cooking on the stove. They’re making dinner together and reminiscing, and while there’s a bit of sadness that Emma can’t quite shake off when they talk about all the years that Emma hadn’t been there – years she can still _remember_ but never actually had with her son – there’s also a lot of laughing and joy because they make sure to include more recent memories where Emma was around as well.

 

“Oh, this sounds like it’ll be a good one,” Emma says, turning around and stealing a pepper strip to munch on as she looks between mother and son.

 

Regina shakes her head, looking down at the spices she’s just finished measuring out for a moment. “You know how I’ve told you that I spent a lot of my time learning new dishes before Henry came into my life?”

 

Henry grins a little.

 

Emma nods. Regina’s stories about learning to cook had actually been what inspired their trip to Boston the other week. Regina’s love for Spanish food had been born when she was trying to find a way to connect with the father she had missed. The culture’s a bit different, Regina had explained, telling Emma about the land her dad had grown up in, but in a lot of ways it was the same – and the food, food from Puerto Rico and Spain, as well as the language, was something Regina had spent years learning about from books and tapes until the Internet came to Storybrooke.

 

“Well, I had stopped for a few years because I wanted to give Henry all of my attention to assure that he was healthy and well-loved. Making sure he had everything he needed was my top priority. It wasn’t until he was about four years of age, I believe, that I started cooking again with the purpose of learning new things. Henry had shown an interest in helping me, and not long after that it had become an activity we could do together, a way for us to bond.”

 

“You should have seen the kitchen when we were done with the pie. Total disaster zone.” Regina nods in agreement. “I was a cute kid, naturally.”

 

Emma chuckles. “Naturally,” she repeats.

 

Regina smiles brightly and presses her hand to Henry’s cheek. “You’re still a cute kid.”

 

“Oh, don’t call him that. He’s a _young man_ now," Emma says, smirking in Henry's direction and taking another one of his pepper strips.

 

“I am,” Henry insists, but he still smiles big and bright at Regina, like he knows and accepts that he’ll always be her little Henry no matter how old he is. “The pie was delicious, but the kitchen... My chubby cheeks were probably my only redeeming quality that afternoon.” Regina gives his cheek a pat. “There was flour _everywhere_.”

 

Regina groans and turns to Emma. “Weeks after that cooking adventure, I was still finding flour hidden in little crevices. Now that I’ve seen what you’re like in the kitchen, I’m quite certain his inclinations to make a mess every time he enters the kitchen is hereditary.”

 

“Hey. I’m not that bad,” she protests, walking back over to the stove to stir the pot.

 

“You kinda are, Ma,” Henry tells her, of course backing Regina up. _Suck up._

 

Emma frowns. Regina wraps her arms around Emma’s middle and presses her cheek against Emma’s neck. And Emma’s frown disappears so quickly that there’s a chance she might have only imagined it had appeared in the first place.

 

Emma sinks back into Regina and hums contently. “I’m really not that bad,” she insists in a quiet voice.

 

Regina hums as well and turns to press a kiss to Emma’s jaw. “No, you’re not that bad,” she agrees, “but it wouldn’t kill you to be a little neater.”

 

Suddenly Emma feels a second pair of arms wrapping around her and Regina making a surprised little noise in her ear.

 

“Let’s just agree that Ma and I are a bit messy sometimes, but Mom doesn’t mind too much because she wouldn’t have anything to clean if we weren't,” Henry says, squeezing them in his arms.

 

Emma laughs loudly, her shoulders shaking.

 

Regina laughs, too.

 

And _God_ , these are the moments she lives for.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma pulls the folder with the road trip plans in it from Regina’s hand as the brunette is reading. “Okay, no more for tonight,” Emma decides, closing it up and putting it on the coffee table. She slides away from Regina and then drops her head down on Regina’s lap, turning so she’s on her back and her legs hang over the arm of the loveseat. “I don’t know how you do it, hold all this information in your head and sort it out into neat little compartments, but I’m not meant to plan things like that. I can only handle so much.”

 

Regina puts her palm on Emma’s forehead and then slides it down into her blonde hair. “It’s been a long day. The final plans don’t need to be made tonight. However, I will let you know that we will definitely be taking my car.”

 

“What?” Emma says, trying to sit up but being stopped by the hand on her head.

 

“There is no way we are spending three weeks on the road in your clown car, Emma. It would make no sense to take the smaller of the two cars. Your car doesn’t even have a way for Henry to exit without me getting out of the car first. My car is clearly a safer option.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes and grumbles.

 

“And I demand 35% of the playlist consists of music I have chosen.”

 

“You demand?” Emma repeates with a small laugh.

 

“I will not be spending the entirety of this trip listening to the noise you think is music.”

 

“What is this, insult Emma’s choices night? First, you attack my car. Now you go after my music? Come on. I listen to some pretty good music. You just dislike it on principle. You don’t even give it a try.”

 

Regina twists her lips together, an attempt to hide the smirk trying to appear.

 

Emma digs into the pocket of her jeans, twisting her hip to slide into the tight space. She brings her phone up to eye-level when she retrieves it and opens up her music, scrolling through song titles. “I have road trip classics,” Emma says like she’s about to prove the most important point she’ll ever have to prove in her life.  

 

“What? Five Hundred Thousand Miles? Because I’m not–”

 

“What?” Emma asks through her loud laughter, stopping Regina mid-sentence. Regina eyes Emma with a warning look that, maybe, just maybe, would have worked on her at one point. Right now Emma just continues to laugh. “That’s not even a song.”

 

“You know which song I’m talking about. You wouldn’t stop playing it when we went to New York. It gave me the worst headache I’ve ever had.”

 

“Oh,” Emma says, biting back a grin as she scrolls down to _I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)._ “I think you’re combining two songs. _A Thousand Miles,_ which I’m sure is on every half-decent road trip playlist. It’s a must. And then this one,” she says as the The Proclaimers song starts playing from her phone.

 

Regina snatches the phone from her, even though Emma tries moving it away from her. “We are _not_ listening to that song. I have heard it more than enough times to last me a lifetime, Emma. And you’ve only just proven my point about how _terrible_ your music is.”

 

Emma grabs her phone back and disagrees. "Journey, Bon Jovi... I have music you listen to, too. I even have a little bit of jazz, but that's not really road trip music." Thanks to all the moving around she did growing up, she's learned to enjoy, or at least stand, most types of music. She says as much to Regina while switching to the next song. When it starts to play, Regina reaches for the phone, but Emma holds it out of her reach. “You didn’t even give this one a chance. It’s an Elvis song. Isn’t everyone supposed to like Elvis’ music?”

 

“That’s not Elvis – not that I’m a fan of his music.”

 

“No,” Emma agrees slowly. “It’s Suzi Quatro, and I actually really like this song. So...”

 

Regina sighs and holds her hands up, giving in. “After that song, we’re turning your music off and going up to bed.”

 

Emma grins and starts the song over, lays her head down comfortably on Regina’s lap, and focuses on the feeling of Regina’s hand resting on her stomach as she breathes. After a little while, her fingers start to tap along to the song on Emma’s stomach, and it makes Emma’s grin grow.

 

“When I’m with the girl that I love best,” Suzi and Emma sing together, “my heart beats so and it scares me to death.” She hums along, looking at Regina as the song continues with words she doesn’t remember. “I’m in love,” she sings, shaking her shoulders and legs. “I’m all shook up.”

 

Regina brushes a thumb over Emma’s bottom lip, her touch light as she traces Emma’s mouth. “You can add this song if you must,” she tells Emma, still touching her mouth, looking at Emma with a thoughtful expression on her face. “It isn’t _too_ bad.”

  
Emma puts her hand over Regina’s and presses the brunette’s palm to her mouth and kisses it, holding Regina’s gaze while every inch of her feels as though it grows warm from the look in Regina’s deep eyes.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma squints her eyes as she steps out of the diner Tuesday morning, carrying a coffee for David and an iced-tea for herself. She’d asked him if she could borrow his truck for the day, and he’d said she could use it for as long as she needed it if she brought him some coffee to work. (Their coffee is crap, so if the option for outside coffee is on the table, both father and daughter will happily take it.)

 

“Coffee delivery for one,” Emma says when she enters the office a few minutes later.

 

“And this is why you’re my favorite daughter,” he says far too happily as he wraps his hands around the paper cup.

 

“I’m your only daughter,” Emma points out as she pulls up a chair and sits down at the side of the desk, folding her left leg on top of her right one, his words still causing a small smile to pull at her lips as she gets comfortable. “I take it it hasn’t been a busy day today,” she guesses, scanning his desk and then tilting her head back and glancing at the empty cells.

 

“Is it bad that I wish it was, that something would happen so I had more to do?” he asks quietly.

 

Emma shakes her head and then catches her straw between her lips. The tea is strong and sweet. “Nah. I got so bored the other week that I actually jumped up from my seat when someone called to make a noise complaint,” she admits with a self-deprecating eye roll.

 

David chuckles a little. “Oh.” He opens the drawer and pulls out the key Emma needs. “Before I forget.”

 

“Sweet. Thanks. I’ll get this back to you tonight.”

 

“There’s no rush. However long you need it, it’s yours.”

 

Emma smiles gratefully at her father and then spins the key around her finger by the metal ring. David watches her silently for a minute, like he’s waiting for something else but won’t bring up whatever’s on his mind. Emma lets the key stop spinning before she raises her brow.

 

“What’s up? You’re giving me a look.”

 

David rubs a hand over his hair and then picks up the pen from his desk and twirls it around his fingers like he needs to do something with his hands. Emma realizes at the exact same moment that she’s spinning the key ring again and forces herself to stop, clutching the key in her closed fist.

 

“How are things going? You sounded upset over the phone this morning.”

 

Emma frowns, looking away. “Oh.”

 

“Anything you want to talk about?” he asks her, very David-like, the father who’s always there for when she needs him now but also knows that sometimes she’d rather just handle stuff on her own.

 

She gives him a small, appreciative smile. “It was nothing. I was just feeling, uh, I don’t know, weird.”

 

“Weird?” he repeats.

 

Emma nods, deciding that she’s going to do what she’s been telling herself for months she needs to do. She’s going to let her parents be there for her. She takes a long pull from her straw and then places the cup on the desk, away from the paperwork and folders.

 

“I think Henry’s having nightmares because of me,” she says slowly, lifting her eyes to watch for his reaction.

 

David merely hums. “Why would you think he’s having nightmares because of you?”

 

Emma sighs and frowns, the same awful feeling that had been in her gut earlier returning. “I was hungry last night and went to the kitchen to get some Oreos and peanut butter. It was probably around three in the morning, so everybody had been sleeping for a while. But when I got down there, the light was on in the kitchen.”

 

“Henry was in there?”

 

Emma nods. “He’s said once or twice before that he’s been having trouble sleeping. So I tried talking to him to find out what was wrong and if he had another nightmare, but he wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t want to push him to talk about it if he didn’t want to, so I decided to just sit with him for a little while and share the cookies with him.

 

“It hurt, you know, that he wouldn’t talk to me. He used to talk to me more about stuff. I mean, this is the kid that went all the way to Boston to tell me his mom was an Evil Queen,” she says with both a fond smile and a small grimace.

 

“That’s not exactly the same,” he points out smartly.

 

Emma smiles. “I know. But the point is, he talked to me back then. He used to tell me everything – or at least a lot of things. And then when we were in New York...” Emma scrubs at her face. “It wasn’t real. He talked to me then, but none of our past was real. He was talking to a mother who had been there his whole life, loving him, supporting him, taking care of him. We talked about everything in New York. But now...”

 

“You’re the same mother now as you was then,” David says in an assuring tone that does nothing for Emma.

 

“No, I’m not. But that’s not what was bothering me. I more or less have figured out how to cope with that. If I focus on the gift Regina gave us by giving us memories where we’d been happy together, and I focus on how that year together actually did bring Henry and me closer in a lot of ways, the parts I hate thinking about become more bearable.”

 

David nods and asks, “If not that, what was bothering you earlier?”

 

Emma absently starts spinning the key again as she answers. “Regina came downstairs looking for me, and when she found us down there, she asked Henry what was wrong. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to tell her. So I left them alone and went upstairs. Regina didn’t come back to bed for another twenty minutes. He talked to her.”

 

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

 

Emma chews on her cheek, looking down at the floor. “Well, yeah. I’m happy that she was able to help him and that Henry talked to her. Of course, yeah, that’s a good thing. I’m just...” She shakes her head, not wanting to admit it.

 

“You wish he would have opened up to you like he did with Regina,” he states.

 

Emma huffs out a breath, feeling guilty for the jealousy she feels. “I feel like I don’t know how to be there for my own kid, and it sucks. It’s not that I don’t want him to go to Regina with his problems – because she’s his mom, too, and she’s way better at this stuff than I am – I just want him to also come to me.”

 

“Well didn’t you say you sat with him in the kitchen before Regina showed up?”

 

Emma’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, and we ate cookies and peanut butter. That’s not exactly doing him any good.”

 

David raises his brow. “Don’t you think Henry should be the judge of that?” Emma sighs. David reaches over and pats her hand. “Maybe that was all he needed from you. Look at your mother and I. Aren’t there times when you rather talk to Snow about something instead of me? Or times when you talk to me instead of her?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma admits, seeing the point he’s making but still feeling like she’s not doing a good enough job at her role as Henry’s second mother.

 

“Well, do you value either of us more than the other? Do you believe one of us is a better parent than the other? Or do you just know that there are things you’d rather speak to one of us about instead of the other? Maybe this is just something Henry needs Regina for.”

 

Emma nods in agreement. “He’s lucky to have her.”

 

David gives her a half-smile. “I think Henry would think he’s lucky to have you both.”

 

Emma feels a little lighter when she thinks of the way Henry smiles at them both, the way he had hugged them last night and made her feel so very loved. But the words in the back of her head still slip out of her mouth a moment later.

 

“I want to be a better mom for him. He deserves the best.”

 

“Doing everything you can to protect him and keep him safe, which you’ve been doing since you reentered his life, is what’s best for him. You would do anything to protect Henry, Emma. He knows that – everybody knows that. That’s what's important.”

 

Emma believes her dad – mostly. But there’s a part of her that refuses to.

 

“What’s making you doubt yourself?” he asks in that voice that suggests he might already know, that reminds Emma that he’s really gotten to know her.

 

“The Underworld,” she admits, her jaw tightening, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her belly. “Everything you’re saying to me, I told myself the same thing this morning. But I couldn’t move past the feeling that I just wasn’t a good enough mother, not when I took my son to Hell to save a man who had almost taken my entire family from me, including my kid. And definitely not if that’s why he’s having nightmares now.”

 

David looks conflicted for a moment, but then he scratches the back of his neck and says, “You just brought up Henry coming to find you in Boston. He was ten at the time, and he managed to get all the way to Boston on his own. Henry is one of the most determined people I know. I think we can agree on that. Do you honestly believe that if you had left him, he wouldn’t have found a way to get there on his own?”

 

“That’s not the point,” Emma protests.

 

“But it is,” he insists. “If you’re going to judge your parenting skills on the decisions you made, then you need to look at the bigger picture. If you had left Henry here, there’s no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t have given up until he found a way to get to the Underworld to help. He has a savior for a mother, and he’s my grandson – he can’t help his need to help others; it runs in the family.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes a little, but she grins at him, honestly a little surprised that he’d made her smile when she feels herself moving back into the negative place she had been in earlier.

 

“Imagine if he ended up at the wrong place when he tried to get to us, or if he got there and we’d already come back and he didn’t know how to get home and we didn’t know where he was.”

 

The idea of Henry being lost and alone makes Emma’s heart ache so terribly that she has to lift her hand to her chest and hold it there, willing the pain to fade. “I don’t want to imagine that.”

 

He smiles sadly. “Neither do I, but that’s possibly what could have happened if you and Regina had decided to leave him here. Henry being with all of us was where he was safest.”

 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He was safest with all of us, but none of us should have even been there in the first place. I shouldn’t have brought any of you there. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing any of you there in the first place.”

 

David raises his brow and carefully asks, “Do you not know, or do you just not like what you were thinking at the time?”

 

Emma swallows slowly. “You sound like Regina. That’s basically the same thing she asked me when we had this discussion.”

 

“Great minds...”

 

Emma snorts.

 

“So...?”

 

Emma licks her lips and looks away from him. “I should have let go of him in Camelot,” she admits for the first time to someone other than Regina. “All of the mess that happened after that would have been avoided.”

 

“Letting go of loved ones is never easy,” he says empathetically.

 

Emma shakes her head. “That’s not it.” It has taken her a while to understand what motivated her actions, a lot of self-evaluating and talking to Regina, but she understands what was at the core of all her mixed up feelings. “I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to lose someone who had told me they wanted a future with me. It wasn’t about losing Hook, not when I look at the bigger picture. At the moment, yeah, that’s what it felt like. But it was losing something I had spent most of my life wanting.

 

“He represented hope and forever for me. I let him be that, and I didn’t know how to let go of it. I couldn’t lose another future of happiness that had been promised to me, not after spending my life losing that over and over and over again. I was fighting for happiness. It was selfish. And it was stupid because my happiness didn’t exist in him. And in the end, all he did was hurt me and treat me badly. He blamed it on the darkness in him, but...”

 

David rubs her shoulder and she squeezes her eyes tightly, willing the waves of emotions rocking through her body to stop. This had been easier with Regina, talking to her in the middle of the night while the brunette held her and she didn’t have to look at her when she admitted any of it.

 

“The darkness didn’t go away when I took his memories. He had forgotten what had happened, but that didn’t make the darkness leave him. The moment he had his memories back, he had an excuse to let the real him show. I should have known better. He said and did things that hurt me. He brought the Dark Ones here. He did so much wrong, and I just, what, moved past it because I wanted to believe that the guy I had fallen for was really in there, that the man who had died wasn’t the one who had made me feel like shit just because he was mad at me?”

 

“You were blinded by what you thought was love,” David tells her after she’s been quiet for a long stretch of time.

 

She looks up at him, studying his face. “But how could I think that was love? After everything, how could I think that he loved me?” She’s not sure if she genuinely wants an answer to that, not sure if it’ll make her chest ache less or more. “I had all of you – you, Mom, Baby Neal, Henry, and even Regina. I had all of you, but I still...”

 

David looks like he’s hurting just as much as Emma is, and it’s an odd concept for her to understand. He scoots his chair over to her and hugs her without saying anything, just pulls her over so that she’s bending awkwardly. Her head is on his shoulder and he’s rubbing her back. And for a moment she freezes, because she’s too vulnerable for hugging, feeling too emotional to hug anyone other than the one person she has truly allowed herself to expose all of herself to. But then she sinks into his embrace and ignores the voice telling her to be strong and pull herself together. She lets her father comfort her as everything comes crashing down on her and her shoulders shake.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma doesn’t tell him about all of her regrets.

 

She regrets letting her fears of being alone control her actions – but she has a hard time explaining to the people who have proven to her that they’re not going anywhere why she still fears being alone, so she doesn’t tell him that. It’s an irrational fear, she knows that, but it doesn’t make it any less real.

 

She regrets feeling like she needed to save him – and in the same breath, she regrets thinking that, and she doesn’t want to work through that with anyone when she doesn’t yet understand it herself, so she doesn’t tell him that.

 

She regrets giving parts of her to someone who didn’t recognize that beneath her tough exterior everything was soft and fragile and needed to be handled with care – but she’s moved past thinking about that now that Regina has shown her what it’s like to give herself to someone who heals instead of harms where Emma is bruised.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

She doesn’t tell him about how she doesn't’ fully regret it, either.

 

That’s something she’ll only talk about with Regina.

 

After hearing about Regina’s experience with her father, Emma can’t regret their trip there completely.

 

After hearing how much it had helped Regina knowing her father had moved, Emma can’t regret it completely.

 

Knowing he got to see the woman Regina is now, the woman Emma is proud of and knows he is proud of as well, Emma can’t regret it completely.

 

But Emma only talks to Regina about that, so she doesn’t tell David.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“It happened. There’s no going back, no redoing it. It happened. Henry will talk to you when he’s ready. If it’s about the Underworld, you two, or all three of you, can sit down and talk about it. Everyone will make it through this.”

 

David’s words float around her head as she sits at the docks. She needs to clear her head, to breathe for a few minutes. She needs to shake off all the negativity and get herself in a better mood.

 

She breathes in the salty air, tilts her head back to the sun, and then breathes out.

 

And she repeats.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma is filthy, covered in dirt and sweat.

 

She falls down from her kneeling position and lays on the grass in the backyard, closing her eyes to block out the burning glow of the bright sun. Spring needs to get it together and decide if it wants to be cold or hot, Emma decides as she folds her arms beneath her head. The temperature has been yo-yoing all month, and she has a feeling it will only continue to do so as they enter May. It’s getting a little out of hand; it’s almost eighty degrees and she had expected it would be somewhere in the forties when she worked in the garden this afternoon.

 

After picking up Regina’s order from Game of Thorns – her very, very large order that filled the entire bed of David’s truck and the passenger seat – Emma had unloaded the flowers and brought them around to the back of the house. Regina was supposed to pick the order up herself during the weekend, but Emma figured she had forgotten because of everything that had taken place during the week with the rowdy teenagers who had been causing trouble. Instead of reminding Regina she had to either go pick up her order or set up a delivery date, Emma had decided yesterday to just take care of it herself today since she had the day to herself and plenty of time to pick up the flowers.

 

Transferring the potted plants to their new homes in the section of the yard she had been helping Regina get ready for the flowers hadn’t been part of the plan, but once she’d looked at all the flowers, the exotic oranges and reds mixed with the white as snow flowers, Emma had decided that she couldn’t just leave them sitting there scattered around the yard.

 

And now she’s halfway through the task, hot, and wearing a large amount of the dirt she had dug up from the ground because she’d gotten distracted by her phone and miscalculated her step and fell into the damp dirt – which is, of course, how Regina finds her in their backyard, laying down on the ground, filthy from dirt and sweat.

 

“Emma?”

 

Emma jumps at the sound of her name, eyes popping open and then blinking. Regina’s outlined by the beaming sun, her head blocking it from shining in Emma’s eyes. Emma’s face still scrunches up slightly as she looks up at her. “Hey. What are you doing home?”

 

Regina looks around the yard and arches her eyebrow. “I think the better question for the moment is: what happened out here?”

 

Emma smiles sheepishly. “Me?”

 

Regina’s expression becomes more curious, and there’s a slight smirk on her mouth. “I beg your pardon.”

 

Emma groans a little as she sits herself up, using her hands to help her and then brushing them off against her pants – like rubbing dirty hands on dirty pants will make anything clean. “Moe French called yesterday to remind you to pick up the flowers. You were helping Henry with his report, so I handled the call myself. I told him I would get them today. I figured you’d probably forgotten about them, and it’s not like I had anything planned after my run this morning.”

 

“I was certain he told me they needed to be picked up at the end of this week. I must have written it in the wrong spot in my planner,” she says with a little eye roll directed at herself. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to pick all of this up. You should have told me, and I would have taken care of it.”

 

Emma waves a dismissive hand in the air. “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I didn’t have anything to do, anyway.”

 

Regina smiles warmly at Emma and reaches down to give her shoulder a squeeze. “And all of this?” she asks, pointing her finger at the flowers Emma has already planted. “Since when do you enjoy working in the garden?”

 

Emma smiles brightly as she tilts her head back. “I enjoy it more when we do it together, but I had fun helping out with the other plants and getting the soil ready. Plus, you’ve been busy lately and I thought I might be able to help out with that if I started working in the yard for you. If I can take a little off your plate...” Emma trails off with a shrug.

 

Regina gives Emma a strange look, and the blonde frowns up at her.

 

“What?”

 

Regina shakes her head and presses a hand to her midsection as she looks around the yard again. “No, it’s nothing. That was just very...thoughtful of you.”

 

“Hey, I can be thoughtful.”

 

Regina smiles, then, turning back to look at Emma. “Yes, darling, you have proven that to me many times. I guess it still surprises me at times – not your thoughtfulness, but someone taking my needs into consideration,” she says honestly. “I appreciate it.”

 

Emma reaches for Regina’s hand and takes it into her own. She brushes her thumb over the edge of the other woman’s hand and then kisses her knuckles. “It’s nothing you don’t do every day for me. Besides, my father basically lives by one rule: happy wife, happy life. And if I’m supposed to be anything like him, I’ll have to keep my, erm, uh... Well.”

 

Regina leans down and cups Emma’s face and kisses her softly on the mouth. “Your Regina,” she breathes against Emma’s lips and makes Emma moan from the sound of it.

 

“My Regina,” she says with astonishment and a shaky breath. She cranes her neck and sucks Regina’s lip into her mouth, sucks on it until the hand she’s holding squeezes hers and Regina makes one of the soft sounds in her throat that makes Emma feel absolutely _weak._ “I love how that sounds,” she says, and she’s not even sure if she means the sound of Regina moaning or what Regina’s just said to her – both, she declares, definitely both.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Moms?” Henry says as the sliding door closes and he steps outside.

 

Emma and Regina both turn around to look at their confused son. It’s been forty minutes since Regina came home, and now they’re both working on the flowers, hair tied up, wearing old jeans, and with their hands dirty. Henry eyes them from the clean safety next to the porch swing, his brow furrowed a little.

 

“Uh, what’s going on?”

 

Regina pushes herself up from the ground, using Emma’s shoulder to help her up. “Your mother and I are doing a little yard work. How was school, sweetheart?”

 

“It was...” He shrugs a little. “It was school. It’s early. Why are you both home? Did something happen?”

 

“No, no. Nothing happened.”

 

“I don’t go into work until tonight,” Emma reminds him.

 

“And after Mr Gold canceled his meeting and I had all my work for the day taken care of, I decided to take the rest of the day off so that I would be here when you got home.” Regina kisses the top of his head and then leans against the pillar while Henry sits on the swing, still in his uniform. “Are you feeling better?”

 

Emma looks over her shoulder, wanting to be a part of what’s going on over there but also not wanting to intrude. She remembers what David had said and turns away, tuning them out to give them some privacy. When Henry’s ready to talk to her – _if_ he wants to talk to her – she’ll be there for him the best way she knows how. Whether that means talking over video games like they used to or talking it out over lunch or a walk, Emma will be ready to help her son.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

When Emma steps out of the bathroom later after her shower, she is surprised to find Regina sitting in the armchair with a book. She tightens her towel around her body and walks past the quiet brunette to get the clothes she had put out on the bed. Just her underwear and tank top, her nap clothes before she needs to get properly dressed for work. She still has a couple of hours before she’s due to start, and she plans on spending those hours getting some much-needed rest before what will probably be a boring shift.

 

“I thought you and Henry were going to continue out there together,” Emma says as she slips her underwear under the towel and pulls them over her hips.

 

Regina makes a small noise in her throat and holds up a single finger to tell Emma to hold on as she finishes reading the page she’s on. When she’s done, she closes the book with her fingers stuck between the pages to hold her place. “He had homework he needs to be doing, and I thought I might see if you’d like some company.”

 

Emma grins hopefully as she takes off her towel and starts drying her upper half. Normally when Emma takes her naps around this time, Regina is either just getting home or is busy doing something. The possibility of spending this time with Regina, even while sleeping, is not one she usually has – but it’s a possibility that certainly makes Emma a little excited. “You wanna nap with me?”  

 

Regina’s eyes trace the naked lines of Emma’s body for a moment too long for it to go unnoticed, so when Regina clears her throat and licks her lips, Emma shivers. Regina averts her eyes and pulls at the collar of her shirt. “As long as you plan on putting more clothes on, yes, I would like to join you while you take your nap. However, if you choose not to finish getting dressed...” Regina trails off, crossing and uncrossing her legs while clearing her throat again.

 

Emma looks down at her breasts and stomach and then at the tank top on the bed. “So,” she says slowly, “if I were to skip the shirt...?” Regina’s head moves quickly, telling eyes looking up at Emma with a flash of desire. Emma grins at her and then pulls back the covers on the bed and get in. “Are you telling me you don’t want to get in the bed with me right now?”

 

Regina sweeps her tongue over her lips again, her eyes dropping down to Emma’s breasts like they just can’t help themselves. “That is not even remotely close to what I was implying.”

 

Emma runs her teeth over her lip and then settles back against her pillow. “Then maybe you should spell it out for me so I know for sure.”

 

Regina shakes her head, looking at the door. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders a little. “Henry knows not to come in without knocking and receiving permission to enter. We have a kid. I’m pretty sure we’re not the first couple with a child to _'not nap'_ in the middle of the day.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, but she gets up and goes to the door with purpose in her stride. “Pull the covers up,” she instructs. Emma does as she’s told. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“To...” Emma’s cheeks feel warm and so does her belly. She gestures with her hands and raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

 

Regina pauses, suddenly looking uncertain. “Unless you weren’t being serious.”

 

“Oh, no, I was definitely being serious. I just didn’t think you would...” Emma shrugs her shoulders and has to tell herself to stop making it awkward. “Yeah, I’m in. I mean, uh...”

 

Regina laughs quietly at the door and Emma sinks under the covers.

 

“Oh my God. You know what? Maybe I should just nap. I don’t deserve anything else. I can’t even have a proper conversation.”

 

“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She opens the door and slips out, only to poke her head back in and say, in a sultry whisper, “You can start without me if you feel inclined to do so, but you had better not finished by the time I get back.”

  
Emma groans and pulls the comforter over her head completely, hearing Regina's laughter even once the door is shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: rushed late for work kisses, a flash of heat before hurrying out the door
> 
> For those of you who have been asking/trying to figure it out on your own: 
> 
> Tumblr: [hummingbirdswords](http://hummingbirdswords.tumblr.com/) \- I am incredibly awkward and I don't talk much, but when I do, I prefer doing it through tumblr.  
> Twitter: [@authorjazmyne](https://twitter.com/authorjazmyne) \- I'm still trying to understand Twitter, so don't expect much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but the story is back. Next chapter, in a way, will be the last chapter of the fic. Chapter 12 is more like an epilogue + a road trip scene. 
> 
> I wanted to thank everyone who tried to help me with this chapter when I couldn't come up with any ideas. Even though I ended up not using any of them, I appreciated it so much. 
> 
> Anyway... hope you all enjoy the chapter.

**rushed late for work kisses, a flash of heat before hurrying out the door**

 

Emma’s still trying to catch her breath when a low, throaty chuckle rumbles next to her ear. Even with the way she still buzzes from her last orgasm, it’s the surprising sound of Regina laughing that makes her feel like she’s full of electric energy. She doesn’t open her eyes, but her eyebrow raises as she tightens her arm around and squeezes Regina’s trim waist.

 

“What?” she questions, licking her lips and then rubbing them together. She can taste Regina on them and chooses to quietly revel in the pleasure of it, a tiny smirk forming on her mouth.

 

Regina lightly drags her fingers over Emma’s biceps, nails tickling her skin a little. “Nothing, dear,” she drawls against Emma’s neck, snuggling in closer so that when she exhales a long breath and her laughter quiets, Emma feels the warm air against her. “That was just more than I was expecting. I’m still...” she trails off with a pleased moan that makes Emma grin broadly.

 

“Still buzzing. I’m that good, huh?” Emma can sense the eye roll she earns, doesn’t even need to see Regina to know it’s there. That only makes Emma’s grin grow. “I totally just rocked your world, didn’t I, Madam Mayor?” Emma teases smugly.

 

“Shh.” Regina covers Emma’s mouth with her hand and says, “Don’t ruin it by speaking. Your cockiness is not welcomed in the bed right now.” Emma chuckles against Regina’s palm, the sound muffled but unable to be quieted. “Not that your ego needs to be inflated any more than it clearly has been already – you were more than adequate,” Regina mumbles, sounding completely exhausted as she speaks into the crook of Emma’s neck, lips softly brushing against skin. “I’ll agree to that much.”

 

 _More than adequate._ Emma mentally rolls her eyes at the choice of words. A few moments ago Regina was biting into her shoulder and digging her nails into Emma’s arm because she was struggling to keep quiet because of how ‘adequate’ Emma was.

 

Her carefree laughter continues, though, as she takes Regina’s hand from her face and holds it, their fingers slipping into the spaces between the other’s instantly, curling around hands so they can hold the other close. It feels good to just laugh, to just lay there with Regina’s body against her side, their legs intertwined beneath the sheet they are tangled up in, the warm air fragrant with the scent of the both of them combined. It feels good having this, all of it, everything she has with Regina, every day, every moment. She will never not take the time to appreciate this, she thinks, because she knows what it’s like not to have it and doesn’t ever want to go back to that, doesn’t want to ever remember what it’s like not to always feel content with another person.

 

Emma turns and presses a long kiss to the crown of Regina’s head, her nose buried in Regina’s hair as she breathes in and out slowly. “I don’t know about you, but I could probably sleep for twelve hours straight now,” she mumbles tiredly, letting out a loud yawn.

 

A half-snort is her response. Emma Smiles.

 

“You think I’m joking, but I’m serious. You wore me out, woman.”

 

“Are you complaining, dear?”

 

Emma shakes her head in the negative. “Not even a little.” She slides her hand downward from Regina’s hip to her the generous curve of her ass, where she greedily grips and squeezes as much as she can. “Not even a little,” she repeats as Regina’s breath rushes out with a quick gasp.

 

“Mmm,” Regina moans softly a moment later, stroking Emma’s leg with the arch of her foot slowly. “You still have time for a nap if you would like to take one,” she tells her, sounding as tired as Emma feels after their lovemaking and the day she’s had dealing with the flowers and working in the garden. _She_ sounds as though she could use a nap.

 

“I think I will,” Emma whispers, turning into Regina’s body and hooking her leg over Regina’s hip. She pulls her closer, always closer, the two of them fitting together like they were made with spaces meant for the other to fill. “Mmm. You gonna stay with me?”

 

She wants nothing more, nothing more than Regina in her embrace as she sleeps, the silent reminder that she’s _there,_  that they are together. She tries to blame the sex for her need to be close – post-coital cuddling had never really been her thing, but with Regina she craves the physical nearness all the time – but she knows it’s not the bliss that has yet to wear off that has her clinging to Regina, wanting to bury herself in the inviting warmth that is always there. It’s not sex that makes her hungry for contact. It’s the way everything disappears for a few moments, silences in her head, shuts down and allows her to be at true peace when in Regina’s arms that makes her hold on tight, wrap herself around Regina without a second thought.

 

When she does so, when they settle together in their bed, Regina hums in contentment and brushes her lips across Emma’s neck. “For as long as you wish,” she responds, her husky voice low and quiet in the cocoon they make for themselves within their bedsheet.

 

And Emma falls asleep easily, comforted by the knowledge that when she wakes, Regina will be there.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma stops dead in her tracks when she walks into the station for her shift later on and sees her mother and father sharing a deep kiss across his desk. If she had been holding something, Emma’s certain she would have dropped it. Instead, she’s like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment before her face screws up and she clears her throat awkwardly – loudly. _This_ is not what she was expecting to greet her when she had to force herself to leave Henry and Regina at home.

 

Papers shuffle and fall to the floor as Snow jumps back and blinks her wide eyes open to look at Emma. “Emma, h-honey, you’re, you’re here,” she stammers, sounding breathless. Her pale cheeks are tinted a bright shade of pink and her hands knot together atop her lap as she sits properly in her chair, brushing down her modest skirt first.

 

“Hey,” David says roughly, clearing his throat and sliding a hand through his hair. “We were just, uh.... Your mother and I were just–”

 

“Yeah, no thanks,” Emma rushes out, shaking her hands in front of her and adding in a head shake as well in case it’s not clear how much she _doesn’t_ want him to finish that sentence. “I know what you were doing, and I really wish I didn’t have to see it. I don’t need an explanation on top of it. I already need bleach for my eyes.”

 

“Sorry,” they both say with a hint of embarrassment in their eyes as they look away from her, Snow fixing her blouse and David picking up his fallen work.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Emma sighs as she properly enters, heading towards her office. It’s not like she hasn’t walked in on them during more _intimate_ moments, she recalls with a small grimace. “It’s fine, really. I just didn’t expect to come to work and find my parents making out. But how much of what happens here is really expected?” she asks with an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of her neck.

 

“It would seem we got a little carried away.” Her mother lifts her head and matches Emma’s uncomfortable laugh with a smile that looks just as uncomfortable, a little tight despite the openness of her eyes. “I had a late afternoon at the school and thought it would be a lovely surprise for your father if I brought him some dinner on my way home, and–”

 

“I was just working on digitizing our records, so I told your mother to stay and have dinner here with me. We didn’t get to spend our lunch breaks together today like we usually do. With the end of the school year quickly approaching–”

 

“We haven’t really had much time for each other,” Snow continues, and the blush on her cheeks spreads and darkens.

 

Emma shifts on her feet and offers her awkward parents a small smile. “I get it, guys. You’ve been having a hard time finding a way to make your conflicting schedules work together, and I imagine his sleeping schedule doesn’t make it any easier on either of you,” she says understandingly, tilting her head to where Neal sleeps quietly. “Hopefully the new schedules we’re starting here next week will change that, but until then you gotta find time for each other whenever you can. I get it. Just...”

 

“No kissing while on duty,” David says as he gets up from his chair, saluting with a bit of a grin. “We can handle that.”

 

“It’s not even that. I just don’t wanna see it. You know, nobody really wants to see their parents being all- -” she gestures with her hands, pointing at them as her brow wrinkles, “- -you know, the way you always are. It’s kinda gross.”

 

Snow chuckles behind her hand.

 

Emma raises an inquiring eyebrow, her head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

 

Her mother shakes her head as she stands as well, brushing her hands down her cardigan and skirt. “No, it’s only that I find it a little amusing that you believe your father and I are gross when I had the unfortunate opportunity of catching you and Regina necking like teenagers just last weekend when I stopped by to drop off the book Henry left at our place. There was a brief moment where I was honestly worried neither of you had remembered the importance of oxygen.”

 

David looks mildly horrified for a second, but it’s nothing compared to the way Emma’s eyes bulge out as she screeches, “Mom! For the love of– I knew that book didn’t look right on the table. Your key is for emergencies. Emergencies.” She pinches the bridge of her nose with two tight fingers. “And _we_ were in our home, that’s totally different.”

 

Snow gives her a little innocent shrug. “We’re all adults here. Of course I rather not have seen some of what I witnessed, but I know that you and Regina are two–”

 

“Stop. Oh my god, stop talking. Please.”

 

David scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat awkwardly, not meeting either of their eyes as he packs up the remainder of their food. “Uh. I, um, yeah. I think it’s time we get going, don’t you, Snow?”

 

“Yes,” Emma agrees with him, turning away from them and opening up her office door. “And let’s never, ever, _ever_ bring up anyone kissing anyone ever again. Got it?” she throws over her shoulder, receiving only a small smile from Snow as she watches Emma close herself up in her office.

 

Emma shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up on the back of her chair before she plops down in it with a huff and pulls her phone out from her pocket, and then fishes out the keys to David’s truck so she can return them. She glances out through the glass window and observes her parents for a moment or two, perfectly in sync as they clean up the containers from dinner and everything on the desk is put back in its proper location, their hands finding each other for no reason other than to connect, their bodies leaning into the other’s for quick moments. It’s worse than catching them kissing, she thinks, smiling despite herself. They’re that couple that finishes each other’s sentences and knows what the other needs before it’s said, and Emma still can’t believe it sometimes that _these_ are her parents. Snow White and Prince Charming, fairytale characters that represent the kind of love Emma had never believed existed as a child when true love felt like a lie because she’d never seen it, are her parents. _Her_ parents.

 

Oh, how none of what her life has become is anything like what she had expected – and damn, she couldn’t be happier about that.

 

Parents, a kid, a brother, a romantic relationship that is far healthier than anything she had ever experienced before Regina...

 

Speaking of, Emma unlocks her phone and starts typing out a quick text message to send to the very woman whom she often finds on her mind at random moments of every day.

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **Remind me to change the locks before the week’s up. All of them. I’ll explain later.**

 

She leans back in her chair and crosses her hands on her stomach and breathes out softly. David and Snow are looking down at Baby Neal, and Emma finds herself smiling again, their smiles as they fuss over him contagious. Her phone vibrates on the desk and she reaches for it without taking her eyes from her parents and little brother. She brings the phone up to eye-level instead, swiping her finger across the screen to read Regina’s response.

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Should I be worried?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **No.**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You should be thankful my mom has better timing than I do.**

 

 **_Regina:_ ** **Meaning?**

 

 **_Emma:_ ** **You don’t wanna know.**

 

Emma’s phone is barely down on her stomach before it starts vibrating and ringing, an incoming call this time. Emma answers it with a smooth, “Yeah?”

 

“What the hell does that mean, Emma? What am I going to have to do to your mother?” Regina asks as soon as Emma picks up the phone.

 

“Maybe teach her a thing or two about privacy,” Emma says with a shrug Regina can’t see.

 

“What?” Regina questions, sounding confused – and tired, sleepy.

 

Emma frowns, her mind no longer on the conversation she just finished with her parents. “You sound exhausted. Did Henry finish his math homework yet? You need to get back to bed and sleep, doctor’s orders.”

 

Regina sighs exasperatedly into the phone. “I told you before you left that I am fine.”

 

“Yeah, and then ordered pizza for dinner because you were, and I quote, ‘too tired to cook’. When are you ever too tired to cook? I have to force you into bed and away from the kitchen when you’re sick! You prepared a three-course meal – which, who even does that anyway? – and had everyone over the other week when you were having throat problems and could barely talk. But earlier you didn’t even have the energy to throw together a small meal.”

 

“And whose fault might that be, dear? Or have you forgotten why I am so tired?”

 

Emma bites her lip as she sits up and turns on her computer. “It’s your own fault. Nobody told you to be such an overachiever in the bedroom. ‘One more orgasm,’ she says, and then can’t even keep her eyes open for the rest of the evening because she has no more energy. And you call me the greedy one. At least I know my limits.”

 

“I’m going to hang up on you,” Regina threatens.

 

Emma grins as she rolls her eyes. “I’m calling your bluff. You’ll just call me back. I know how much you miss having me at home on the nights I work.”

 

“Sure, darling,” Regina says dryly – but Emma can detect the hint of amusement that she just can’t hide in her voice. “Speaking of work, shouldn’t you be out patrolling? It may be after hours for me, but I’m still the mayor of this town and I will not have my sheriff ignoring her responsibilities.”

 

“Your sheriff, huh?” Emma teases in a low voice as she nods and holds up one finger in response to her father holding up his manilla folder that she knows holds his end of the day notes they need to go over. “If you must know, I don’t begin patrolling until it gets dark. Whoever’s going to be stupid enough to pull something will probably wait until they have a lower chance of being caught. At least that’s the logic I’ve been working with.”

 

Regina hums.

 

“Yeah. Anyway. David’s about to leave and I need to speak with him first, so I’m actually going to be the one to end this call. Text me before you go to sleep.”

 

“Don’t you forget that I am still waiting for an explanation about the locks and your mother.”

 

“Of course. And don’t you forget that I’m serious about what I said. I know you stayed up while I was taking my nap, so you need to get some rest.”

 

“Doctor’s orders,” they say simultaneously, and Emma ducks her head as her grin spreads across her face.

 

“Exactly. You’ll just be grouchy and in a bad mood tomorrow if you don’t,” she reasons.

 

“Thank you for your concern, Sheriff Swan.”

 

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but my concern is genuine. You may or may not have noticed by now, but I don’t like seeing you in a bad mood. Plus, I know your morning is meeting after meeting to–”

 

“Are you keeping track of my schedule?” Regina questions, cutting Emma off. There’s a mixture of confusion and something soft in her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks flood with warmth.

 

“Uh. Well. No...? I’m not?” She bites her lip and runs her free hand through her hair, wincing when she gets caught in a tangle.

 

“Are you asking me or telling me? Because I believe I asked you first, and only you know what you’ve done.” A quiet hum fills Emma’s ear, the kind Regina makes when pieces of puzzles come together for her and things start making sense. “Although, now that I think about it, that would explain how you manage to continuously show up at my office with coffee right when I need a caffeine boost.”

 

Emma starts to suggest that she just gets lucky, that she doesn’t remember Regina’s busy schedule at the beginning of every week but still forgets things that she needs to be doing herself when her schedule hardly ever changes. But then Regina says something that makes her smile stupidly down at her lap, feeling like a teenager being acknowledged by her secret crush. It doesn’t even matter that she’s already dating Regina.

 

“You’re far more attentive than I ever gave you credit for – and what a shame the absence of my acknowledgment is because it is one of the qualities I adore most about you, Emma.” Regina’s smile is audible; Emma might not be able to see it, but she can hear it in the lightness of Regina’s voice and the way she says her name. “I do notice it, I hope you know that. All of the small things you do for me that you do not have to do, they do not go unnoticed. I notice it.”

 

“It’s nothing. You’re always giving to me and Henry. The kid and I try to show you that we appreciate it, but I also want to do that for you on my own, just me. You should know how much you’re appreciated. I wanna show you that you’re worth the effort, the extra thought, the time, you know, all of that, everything,” Emma says quietly.

 

She squeezes her eyes closed, feeling a rush of emotions she doesn’t fight to keep hidden because she doesn’t need to with Regina.

 

“It might just be coffee or taking care of the dishes or doing the grocery shopping sometimes, and sometimes it’s wanting to tell you – and _show_ you – all night long how much you mean to me, but whatever it is, it’s me loving you and wanting to find ways to show you every day because you deserve nothing less. I always laughed at that, you know, in movies or shows or whatever when someone would say stuff like that, that someone deserved the very best, the world, everything. But, dammit, you do. All the stupid shit in movies just isn’t all that bad when I think about you. It’s all so real. And you deserve everything, more than me, more than I could ever give you.”

 

“I don’t deserve you,” Regina counters, and Emma starts to object but doesn’t get the chance to speak because Regina continues immediately, her words heavy with emotion, the way Regina gets when she speaks straight from her heart and wants to make sure her sentiment is loud and clear, “but there has not been a day since you welcomed me into your heart that I have not felt grateful that you have chosen to care for me – that you continue to do so with each new day that we face together.”

 

“Like I would choose anything other than to love you.” Emma rolls her eyes at both herself and Regina. “I think it’s beyond obvious that I am totally gone on you.”

 

“Totally gone on me,” Regina repeats amusedly. “I guess we know who won’t be finding themselves a career in the greeting card business anytime soon.”

 

“Shut up,” Emma half-groans, half-laughs. “I love you. ‘Kay? Plain and simple. I love you.”

 

“And I love you, darling,” Regina responds, the words catching a little in her throat. She pauses and clears it. “Now, didn’t you say something about having a sit-down with your father?”

 

“Right. Time to actually work.” Emma sits up in her chair and taps on the glass with her fingernails, getting David’s attention so she can nod him over to her office.

 

“In case you haven’t checked yet, there’s an email that I sent to you before I left the office earlier with a list of documents that are located somewhere at the station that I will be needing before the end of the week.”

 

Emma nods. “I’ll get on that as soon as I finish with David. Anything else you need?” She reaches for her mouse so she can open her email. “Anything at all. Your wish is my command,” she jokes.

 

Regina hums thoughtfully, causing a small smirk to cross Emma’s lips. “Nothing that you can provide from where you are. Ask me again tomorrow.”

 

A faint laugh leaves Emma’s throat as she responds, “Will do. I gotta go now.”

 

“Yes you do, and I have a scrabble date with a young man who has just finished cleaning up for the night. I’ll text you when I’m in bed.”

 

“I want picture proof.”

 

“I’m sure you do.” Regina pauses, and Emma bites the inside of her cheek. “If you can locate at least one of the files on the list by the time I retire for the night, I’ll send you one.”

 

“Bribery?”

 

“An incentive, one that I am quite sure you’ll be more than pleased with.”

 

“Fine. I’m on it right after this brief meeting.”

 

“Good luck, my dear.”

 

Emma ends the phone call with a quick goodbye as David approaches the door, slowly pushing it open. She puts her phone down, still feeling the smile on her face pulling at her cheeks.

 

“Regina?” David asks with a smile of his own, that fatherly smile he gives her whenever he’s happy to see her happy.

 

“Yeah.” Emma nods her head. “Can’t wait until these long nights here are a thing of the past. I hate nights away from her, from both her and Henry,” she admits, wishing that it was not a possible picture of Regina she was looking forward to but actually sliding into bed beside her after playing scrabble with her and their son.

 

David looks over his shoulder and says, “I know what you mean.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma’s pen bounces up and down against the stack of folders piled high on her desk, beating out a beat to a song whose name she can’t think of even though it won’t leave her head. She’s waiting for Henry to show up so they can go to Granny’s together for a small snack – one that _won’t_ ruin their appetite, Regina always says, like Emma and Henry aren’t bottomless pits who would never turn down Regina’s cooking.

 

It’s become part of their Thursday routine. Henry meets Emma at her office once he’s finished for the day and then the two of them wait for Regina at Granny’s. Sometimes Regina beats them there and has already ordered Henry the milkshake he would have had to practically beg for if they arrived first and Regina showed up before he ordered. Emma’s surprised Henry the All-knowing hasn’t yet figured out that Regina only shows that initial disapproval of his sugary choice of snack because she doesn’t want to seem like she spoils him, doesn’t want him to think he can always have what he asks for even though Emma can’t really think of any real moments that Regina has turned him down when his behavior was good – but maybe he has figured it out and just plays along for Regina’s benefit.

 

Henry announces his arrival a few moments later with the squeak of sneakers on the floor, and Emma’s pen stops drumming immediately. She looks up from her desk and towards the entrance that he walks through, bookbag already in the process of being pulled off his shoulders. He looks around, and when he spots her, his grin spreads across his face and lights up everything from his eyes to the dark spots inside of Emma. It’s infectious, his smile, so Emma smiles back at him as she pushes herself up from her chair and meets him in the outer office.

 

“Hey,” Emma says with a slight nod to her head in greeting. “You look like you’ve had a good day.”

 

“One hundred on my math quiz, extra credit on top of a perfect score on our English assignment, and a double block of gym at the end of the day because Mrs. Lannister had to leave early so they let us stay and play in the gym for an extra period – yeah, you could say today was a pretty rad day.”

 

Emma raises her eyebrow. “Since when do you get excited about gym?”

 

He gives her a small shrug that she supposes is supposed to distract her from the way his cheeks pinken as he looks down to the floor. “I played soccer in New York,” he reminds her, “and I was pretty good.”

 

She smiles proudly at that. “Yeah, you were,” she agrees wholeheartedly, and she can practically feel the rawness in her throat from cheering his name from the bleachers during his games. He’d been a natural, and Emma had been the most unconventional soccer mom, but probably one of the proudest. Regina would have had her beat if she’d been there, probably. Regina would have probably had Henry’s name on a sign, or his number on her shirt, and would have been one of the parents reminding the others ‘That’s my son’, just because she was full of so much pride it was bursting out of her. Emma smiles at the thought before shaking her head and giving her attention back to Henry. “But you were also complaining about gym class not too long ago. So what’s changed?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” he tells her as he pulls out one of the desk chairs and plops down in it. “Let’s not focus on me, Ma. How was _your_ day? Isn’t Gramps supposed to be here by now?”

 

She leans back against the desk across from him, arms folded across her chest, a little amused smirk on her lips. “Nice try, but we’re still talking about you, Mister. Come on, what’s up? I know when you’re not saying something.”

 

He chuckles lightly as he lifts his head to look at her, his eyebrow raising a little like Regina does when she looks at Emma with disbelief. “Are you using your superpower on me?”

 

The entirety of her family loves making little jokes and comments about this, about how her ‘superpower’ and how unreliable it can be. Emma is completely unbothered by this and merely shakes her head or roll her eyes.

 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been happy like this after a gym class. I don’t need my superpower to know something’s going on. My observation skills work just fine. So...?”

 

Henry ducks his head, the blush on his cheeks deepening.

 

Emma nods her head to herself, knowing she knows what’s got him in such a good mood. “She’s in your gym class, isn’t she? That’s why you’re suddenly so interested in physical education.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, tapping his foot on the floor. _Lie._ “So when are we leaving? I’m starving.”

 

“Nuh-uh. You’re _blushing_ and can’t even look me in the eye. I’m not going to make you admit it, but don’t pretend like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

 

“Don’t tell mom,” Henry blurts out pleadingly as he looks up, eyes big and round.

 

“Huh?” she says slowly, her smirk falling from her lips as she tilts her head and studies his face.

 

“She’ll freak if she finds out, Emma.”

 

“That you like a girl? You need to give her more credit than that.”

 

Henry looks at her like she’s incredibly dense and he’s just realizing that. “Not that I _like_ a girl, that I have a girlfriend.”

 

“You have a what?!” Emma sputters, loudly, eyes wide, making Henry sit up a little straighter in his chair. Realizing how loud she’d said that, she scratches the back of her neck awkwardly and dampens her lips before questioning, calmly, softly, “You have a girlfriend? Since when? Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

Henry waves his hands at Emma as he says, “Maybe to avoid all of this. I don’t know. Mom still looks at me as this little kid that’ll never grow up, and you, well, I don’t know. I’m telling you now and I think it might be going really bad so far.”

 

“No, no,” Emma says, smiling at him. “This is great – awesome – I’m, wow. Uh.”

 

Henry leans down with his head in his hands. “I thought you knew,” he mumbles. “I thought–”

 

“I mean, I knew you liked someone – so does Regina, by the way. You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from her. She might always look at you as her little kid or whatever, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know you’re growing into a young man.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

Emma walks over to the desk he’s sitting at and pats him on the shoulder, gives it a squeeze and waits for him to look up at her. “So are you going to tell me who?”

 

Henry gives her an ‘are you serious look?’. “Like you and mom don’t already know everything already.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders a little. “I could guess. But I could be wrong.”

 

Henry considers her words for a moment, looking deep into Emma’s eyes like he’s searching for something, trying to read her. “You remember Violet?” Emma nods, her smirk unable to be kept hidden. Henry rolls his eyes. “See! You already know. So mom knows, too?”

 

“Kid, you can’t even say her name without blushing. What do you think?”

 

He groans again. “Is this going to be weird? You guys aren’t going to make me invite her dad over for a dinner where you question him all night long, right?”

 

“No, of course not. We can be cool about this.” At least Emma knows she can. She won’t tell Henry, but Regina _has_ been a little less than chill about the idea of Henry dating. “Besides, if any of your and Violet’s parents want to have one of those talks with the other, I’m sure it’ll be her dad.”

 

Henry frowns. “Because of the Evil Queen thing? He didn’t know her when she was like that, and that’s not who Mom is now.”

 

“No,” Emma says quickly, shaking her head as her stomach drops. “I meant because of me. He has no reason not to like Regina as far as I know, but he has every right not to trust his daughter around the person who, well...” Emma looks away from Henry, his eyes suddenly too understanding, too forgiving when Emma will never move past what she did back in Camelot, even if she’s apologized numerous times and Violet has been comfortable around her the few times their paths have crossed. “I crossed lines I can never uncross that I regret, and you know that. But taking a child’s heart to control them... Her father would be justified in not wanting her anywhere near me.”

 

Henry doesn’t say anything in response, covers Emma’s balled fist instead and sits in silence, always far more understanding than he should have to be in these kinds of situations.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

When Henry and Emma get to Granny’s, Regina’s waiting for them with not only a milkshake for Henry, which he rushes over to, but a plate of fries in the empty space where Emma sits. There’s something about walking through the diner door and seeing this that makes the weight that had been sitting heavily in Emma’s stomach since the reminder of what she’d done to both Violet and her own son lessen, lift a little.

 

And once Regina looks up, arms around Henry as she smiles while hugging him – and continues to smile as she looks towards Emma – Emma feels more like herself, the knowledge of the hurt she caused always somewhere in the back of her mind, but the look in Regina’s eyes a reminder that she has not only done bad, that she has brought good to people’s lives as well.

 

She puts her feet into motion and heads over to the mother and son whose embrace makes her smile warmly. Emma leans down and presses a quick kiss to Regina’s lips when she reaches them and then slides into the opposite side of the booth, sitting by the window and leaving room beside her for Henry. She squeezes out ketchup and sweeps a few fries in the puddle, and everything’s perfect just like that, perfect with its imperfections that don’t matter when Henry sits down and they all start talking about their days and there are smiles and laughs that just feel _right._

 

By the time they finish at the diner – food eaten, Violet _sorta_ discussed, and plans about their summer road trip finally brought up – Emma feels nothing but lightness. It’s not that she stops worrying completely, or that the wrongs she has done no longer matter – it’s just that there’s so much more in life that she can focus on, so much that makes her feel happy, and Regina and Henry know how to make her remember that even when they don’t know that her demons are haunting her

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Snow asks as she passes an eight-month-old Neal his colorful rattles and smiles as he excitedly starts shaking the maracas and hitting them against each other. She has one eye on him and the other on Regina and Emma, giving them a wary look.

 

Regina rolls her eyes and uncrosses her legs, visibly losing some of her patience as she joins Snow and Neal on the living room floor so she can be closer to him. Emma doesn’t blame her. Her mother has been asking them every version of that question she can think of since they walked through the door nearly thirty minutes ago to pick Neal up. It was supposed to be a quick stop at the condo, get her baby brother, grab some toys and clothes, then bring him with them to pick Henry up from his Friday activities. But Snow, who had agreed to Regina and Emma taking him for the weekend so she and David could get some time to themselves and undisturbed sleep, hasn’t seemed to be able to actually let him out of her sight.

 

“Mom, we’ve got this,” Emma assures her, watching Regina out of the corner of her eye as she plays with Neal. Snow’s watching her too, and there’s an even bigger smile on her face now than there had been a moment ago. “See,” she says with a nod to her head. “Neal loves Regina.”

 

“Of course he does,” Snow and Regina say at the same time. And it would be strange that she can hear the silent ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ that is full of beaming adoration when Snow looks up at her if Emma wasn’t used to it, wasn’t used to the way that even with the past they share, the hurt they’ve caused each other, Snow still adores Regina in a way that Emma can honestly say surprised her when she first noticed it.

 

Regina side-eyes Snow, and Snow relaxes her smile just enough. Her mother clears her throat and tucks her cropped hair behind her ear. “It isn’t that I don’t think the two of you can handle him for two days,” she starts, reaching over with a new toy for Neal, one he ignores as he continues knocking the little instruments together. She hands it over to Regina instead and turns to look at Emma. “You’re both really great with him, and David and I are in agreement that he could use some more time with his big sister.”

 

“But...?” Emma asks, lifting her brow a little defensively.

 

“Oh, no, no,” Snow says, rushing up onto her knees and moving closer to Emma to take her hands into her own. “There’s no but, honey. We’re really grateful that you two have offered to take him for the weekend. I mean- -” Snow huffs out an exhausted breath, “- -we haven’t had any time to ourselves to, you know, just...” She shrugs her shoulder a little and half-smiles as she ducks her head, and Emma’s entire face scrunches up.

 

“Oh, God, don’t finish that thought,” Emma says as she pulls a face. Jesus, not again, she thinks. She catches Regina smirking a little out of the corner of her eye and throws a throw pillow at her. “And you don’t find amusement in this,” she warns.

 

“I said nothing, dear.”

 

“You didn’t have to. I know what your facial expressions mean. You can’t hide anything from me.”

 

A low, throaty chuckle fills the air as Regina tosses the pillow back. “Is that so?”

 

“Uh, yeah. It’s how I know when you’re lying to me. Like when you said you didn’t like my Cookie Monster pajamas because they’re ‘too childish’, but I caught you _wearing_ them the other day when you stayed home from work.”

 

Regina’s cheeks darken ever so slightly, and then her eyes narrow. “I was sick and cold, and you weren’t supposed to be home for hours. You shouldn’t even know about that.”

 

“Neal loves Cookie Monster. He always gets excited when watching Sesame Street and he comes on,” Snow tells them with a beaming smile that morphs into something confused but interested. “You own Cookie Monster pajamas?” Snow turns to Regina. “And _you_ were wearing them?”

 

“Oh, _you_ do not get to comment on anybody’s wardrobe.”

 

Snow immediately looks offended as she stands up from the floor. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

 

Emma averts her eyes when she senses her mother turning to look at her. She’s not getting in the middle of this.

 

“What’s _right_ about the way you dress?” Regina retorts, eyeing Snow up and down. “You’re royalty, not your stereotypical underpaid librarian from one of those books you’re so fond of – even the town’s librarian has a better sense of fashion than you do.”

 

“Regina,” Emma hisses with mock astonishment. Seriously, this is just another day between the two of them, a back and forth starting that Emma’s heard a million and one times. And yet, they somehow don’t get tired of it; they might even enjoy it, Regina getting under Snow’s skin and Snow doing the same right back. (Emma guesses that’s where she got it from. It’s in her blood.)

 

Regina looks at her with innocent eyes that are just as fake as Emma’s reaction. “What? Your mother asked a question. Am I expected to lie to her to protect her fragile feelings?”

 

Emma shakes her head at both Regina and her mother. “I’m not getting in between the two of you. I just came here for this little guy,” she says as she reaches over her lap and locks her hands under Neal’s arms. She strains slightly as she lifts him up, and he smiles and instantly wraps around her neck. “We’re going to let mom and Regina bicker on their own, aren’t we? We know better than to get in the middle of that.”

 

Neal agrees wholeheartedly with a loud squeal in Emma’s ear.

 

“Careful with his–”

 

Emma plops him down on her lap and smiles at him while glancing up to her mother. “Stop worrying so much,” she says gently. “I’m not going to break my brother. I got this.”

 

Snow nods slowly. “I know.”

 

Regina clears her throat and softly claps her hands together. “Neal will be taken care of for the weekend, Snow. Emma and I are both more than capable of handling him for two days, and you know this. So what’s really the problem here?”

 

Snow’s eyes shift from Emma to Regina, then to Neal, and then back to Regina as she sighs.

 

Regina raises an eyebrow. “Come on, dear, we haven’t all day. There’s something else going on here. What is it?” she asks, managing to sound annoyed and patient in the same breath somehow.

 

Snow shifts on her feet again, looking over to Emma. “Honey, do you think you could, uh, maybe get the rest of Neal’s things together for me?”

 

Emma eyes her mother suspiciously for a moment, and then curiously as she notices the nervous way she fidgets. Regina pats her thigh and Emma turns her attention to the woman who still sits next to her feet on the floor. Regina nods her head slightly and gives Emma the smallest of smiles. Emma nods in return.

 

“Let’s go find you something to wear for movie night,” she says as she lifts Neal up and stands from the sofa. Her brother points – or something close to pointing – with his hand as he twists in her arms when he spots his colorful toys on the breakfast island, his high-pitched noises growing more excited as Emma brings him nearer with each step. “You need a cool superhero costume like Henry’s. Doesn’t he, Regina?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes in response.

 

“A themed movie night with costumes, how fun,” Snow says excitedly, squeezing Emma’s arm as she passes her.

 

“Right?!” Emma grins over her shoulder at Regina. “It was my idea.”

 

“I’m quite certain there wasn’t even a single moment where it wasn’t apparent that the idea was yours, Emma.”

 

“Because it was such a good one, right?”

 

“It is,” Snow agrees as Regina merely shakes her head, that faint smile on her lips as she watches Emma walk away with Neal.

 

It’s once they’re out of the living room completely that Snow finally sits back down and she and Regina begin talking in hushed voices. Emma only catches a few words here and there, her father’s name, something about asparagus, and what she thinks is Regina telling her to ‘suck it up’. She doesn’t hear enough to understand what they’re talking about, but she doesn’t try to listen. Regina and Snow have a relationship that is all their own, that has nothing to do with Emma, and Emma respects that. She’s a little curious about it, but she also understands some things just aren’t any of her business. She only glances their way a few times, catching the tenderness in Regina’s eyes as she talks to Snow and the openness of Snow’s as she nods at whatever Regina says.

 

“And they still act like they can’t stand each other sometimes,” Emma whispers to her brother, the two of them sitting on their parents’ bed. Neal makes a wet sounding laugh, shaking his rattle in front of Emma’s face. “Who do they think they’re kidding? Hmm?”

 

She tickles Neal’s belly and he falls down onto the pillow she has behind him. She leans down and kisses his full belly as she continues tickling it, making him laugh. She laughs with him, her laughter vibrating against his stomach.

 

“They’re not fooling us, are they? No, they’re not.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Henry, sweetheart, do you think you can feed Neal his mashed yams while I work on dinner?” Regina asks as she ties her apron around her back late Saturday afternoon.

 

“Me?”

 

Emma laughs at the way his eyes widen, Neal laughing as he holds him up mid-air. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” Emma tells him, walking into the kitchen the rest of the way, changed from their day in the park. “I’ll feed him. You help your mother with dinner.” She ruffles Henry’s dark hair and then takes Neal from his hands. “Me and the little guy have an understanding, don’t we? He eats his _yummy_ yams, and I’ll give him one of his baby cookies as a treat.”

 

Regina gives her an unimpressed look. “That sounds an awful lot like bribery to me. The last time you were in charge of his meal time, you were wearing most of the food by the time I came to check on the two of you.”

 

“The kid doesn’t like peas. Can you blame him?” Emma asks with a disgusted face. “They’re gross. I won’t eat them either.”

 

“Exactly,” Henry agrees, nodding his head vigorously. “Peas are the worst – which is why I shouldn’t have to eat them anymore.”

 

Regina shakes her head as she pulls open the refrigerator door and looks around for something. “If your mother chooses to skip out on the food that is good for her in favor of the confections she enjoys, that’s her prerogative. You, on the other hand, will not be doing the same.”

 

Henry looks at Emma for assistance, pleading eyes begging for some backup, but she shakes her head. “You know what she says is law. She wants you to eat peas, you know what you’ll be eating?”

 

He frowns at her. “Peas,” he mumbles.

 

Neal grabs onto Emma’s ponytail and yanks on it, demanding Emma give him all of her attention. She winces and turns her head into his hand, following the way he pulls as she _ow ow ow_ s. “Okay, okay, kid. I’m all yours. You can let go now. Ow.”

 

Regina slides up behind her and gently unwraps Neal’s chubby hand from around her blonde locks. “This wouldn’t be happening if your sister had put you in your highchair to feed you like she said she would,” she says sweetly, and then turns to Emma, her smile falling. “Would it?”

 

“We’re going. Just hand over the yams and leave us to it.”

 

Regina brings over a soft bowl with mashed yams and a small spoon that goes with the bowl. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

 

Emma narrows her eyes as she secures Neal in his chair. “You just told Henry to feed him – _Henry,_ our teenaged son. I think I can handle it. You’re starting to sound like Snow.” Regina smacks Emma’s arm with the towel that had been over her shoulder. Emma flashes a grin her way. “Well, you are.”

 

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Henry says, appearing with his own apron on – an apron with little ducks on it that Emma has to force herself not to laugh at because she finds it cute but Henry thinks it makes him look like he’s still five. “If Emma can’t handle it, Neal’s actually been getting better with feeding himself. He could probably take over.”

 

Emma scoffs. “Thanks for the trust in my abilities, both of you. Nice to know how much you think I’m capable of.”

 

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re capable of. However, I also know what _he_ is capable of,” she says, reaching over to tickle Neal’s stomach and make him laugh. “He’s as messy as he is cute – it must be genetic. Isn’t that right, my little angel?”

 

Baby Neal gurgles at the sweet voice Regina uses when he addresses him, his hands grabbing for her.

 

Emma’s chest does this weird tightening thing when Regina leans down and kisses him, her face full of joy and love. She’s just so good with Neal, a natural, and Emma’s heart aches a little for reasons she can’t comprehend whenever she watches Regina with the baby.

 

Regina glances over to Emma, still bent forward so her face is close to Neal, his hands on her cheeks. Her brow furrows. “Everything all right?”

 

Emma nods even though something feels off. “Yeah,” she says, taking the bowl of yams and stirring them. “Everything is all right.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You’re a mess.”

 

Emma looks at her yam splattered shirt and then shrugs as she pushes Regina back against the kitchen counter later on. “I’m still your mess, and I want to kiss you.”

 

Regina’s breath shakes quietly as Emma’s hands find their way underneath Regina’s apron and shirt, her fingertips dancing over smooth skin and muscles that leap towards her hands when Emma touches her, slowly gliding up her stomach and dancing fingers over her sensitive sides, making Regina shiver.

 

“Was that supposed to be _cute?”_ she whispers with a smile curving her lips.

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “It made you smile, and that’s all that matters to me.”

 

Regina licks her lips and looks from one side of the kitchen, from the doorway Henry has just left with Neal to get him cleaned up to the other side. Her tongue traces her lips and she slowly meets Emma’s eyes, not holding her gaze, dropping down to her mouth instead, watching the way Emma chews on her lip.

 

Emma grins knowingly and pushes her body into Regina’s, their hips meeting as she groans lowly and leans in, their breaths mingling in the limited space between their mouths. Regina twines her fingers together around Emma’s back and pulls her closer, sliding her knee against Emma and then pushing between her thighs.

 

Emma’s next groan is swallowed by Regina’s soft lips when they cover her own, kissing Emma so sweetly. Her body instantly feels like jelly, or like liquid, something shaky or unstable and unable to hold itself up. She pushes against Regina and holds her hips more firmly as their lips connect in a passionate kiss that makes her want to get lost in the sweetness of Regina’s mouth, in the curves of her lips and the softness of her breaths when she exhales.

 

Hips cant forward and roll, sliding against Emma’s thigh. Emma moans in response and slides her hands down to Regina’s ass, palms greedily spread out as she licks her way into Regina’s mouth and skillfully circles Regina’s tongue the way that makes Regina’s breath instantly shallow. She tastes delicious, like sugar at first – but beneath the sweet taste is something a little spicy and tasty.

 

Regina’s own hands wander, nails scraping at the cotton of Emma’s shirt until she’s on bare skin. Emma arches when Regina drags her fingers up and then down either side of her spine, and Regina makes a pleased sound and does it again.

 

“You smell like baby food,” Regina mumbles against Emma’s mouth, lips softly stroking Emma’s.

 

Emma chuckles. “You try feeding the little one and making it out completely clean.”

 

Regina hums and brushes kisses down to Emma’s throat, warm and soft, light until she reaches Emma’s pulse point and stops. “You did a good job with his feeding today,” she admits, lips moving across Emma’s neck.

 

Emma starts to grin proudly, but her lips fall open in a silent moan instead when Regina’s teeth scrape her skin and her knees nearly buckle. “Regina,” she whispers, nothing more than her name because she’s not even sure what’s meant to follow it.

 

Regina presses a long kiss to Emma’s neck and then looks up into Emma’s eyes, a smile not only on her lips but dancing in her brown eyes. She runs her hands over Emma’s back and licks her lips, bringing Emma’s attention down to her inviting mouth. “I’m finding you quite irresistible at the moment,” she tells Emma in a low voice while moving in and placing gentle kisses to the underside of her jaw.

 

Emma sighs and says, “More irresistible than normally, you mean.”

 

Regina pulls back so Emma can see the smirk that’s starting to make an appearance, the slight darkening of her russet eyes. “You should head upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner before I get carried away.”

 

Emma raises her brow. “Women with baby food on their clothes gets you going, huh?” she teases, her words more of a breath as she moves her lips near Regina’s.

 

“One, other women do very little for me,” Regina says, meeting Emma’s lips for a slow kiss that makes Emma tingle all the way down to her toes.

 

“And two?” Emma whispers curiously, sliding her hands back to Regina’s hips.

 

Regina shakes her head, going to kiss Emma – but Emma pulls away, raising her brow again. Regina rolls her eyes a little as she brings her hands up to Emma’s hair and tucks it behind her ears, the elastic that had been in it before now around Emma’s wrist.

 

“You were good with Neal,” Regina says simply.

 

Emma gets wrinkles in her forehead as she gives Regina a questioning look. “So these are reward kisses? Not that I’m complaining.”

 

Regina disentangles them and slides away from Emma a little, not completely, just enough to put some space between them. She fixes her shirt and apron, runs her hands over it until there are no more wrinkles – neither real nor imaginary.

 

“When I suggested we have Neal over for the weekend when you shared that you wished there was some way you could help out your parents, you were worried you wouldn’t know what to do with him,” she states clearly.

 

Emma nods. “Yeah, and you made me stop worrying about that when you told me that you’d be here to help me out. What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“It’s already been an entire night and day and both of the boys, I believe, have enjoyed everything you planned for them, for us.”

 

“Well.” Emma shrugs self-consciously. ”I tried. I wanted it to be a fun weekend for everyone.”

 

Regina shakes her head and reaches over for Emma’s hand. “You do more than try, Emma. You make things happen. You pushed past your worries and made this weekend enjoyable while also doing something selfless to give your parents time together.”

 

“I knew I had you for backup.”

 

Regina pulls Emma to her and brushes a kiss against her lips. “I’m here if you need me, of course, but you did all of this on your own – and it has been quite _an experience_ seeing you become more comfortable with your brother and watching your confidence grow.”

 

Emma grins against Regina’s lips. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“My confidence turns you on,” Emma mumbles into their kiss.

 

“It does, yes, not that you weren’t already aware of that.”

 

“But, I mean,” Emma says, not meeting Regina’s lips when the brunette moves to kiss her again, “it _really_ does. That’s why you would get carried away while kissing me. You kiss me differently when you’re getting–”

 

“Emma,” Regina hisses, spinning them around quickly and pushing Emma against the counter, making Emma’s eyes widen in surprise. Regina cups Emma’s cheek and smiles. “I would much rather kiss you than talk about kissing you.”

 

Emma nods dumbly, licking her lips. “Yeah, yeah. Right.”

 

“Yeah?” she whispers as their lips nearly touch, the feeling of her breath warm on Emma’s lips.

 

Emma’s lashes flutter and her eyes close, her hands on Regina’s back, holding her close. “About what you said...”

 

Regina’s nose rubs against hers, and then their cheeks touch, soft and warm as Regina’s breath tickles Emma’s ear. “You’re doing a marvelous job with him.”

 

Emma smiles and nods as her fingers press into Regina, holding her tighter as she realizes she needed to hear that, needed to know she had been doing a good job when none of it comes naturally to her like it seems to with Regina.

 

“Thank you,” Emma whispers.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Where are your socks?” Emma asks her little brother as she gently lowers him to the changing table later in the evening.

 

Neal’s grin is almost mischievous, like he knows and enjoys how much of a headache he has been causing her by removing his socks and throwing them places every chance he gets. When he goes home tomorrow afternoon, Emma’s pretty sure he’s going to be leaving with fewer clothes than what he came with – and fewer toys. He likes throwing things - his bottle now that he’s better at holding it by himself, socks and bibs and whatever clothes that he can easily pull off with a few yanks, and his toys when he’s finished with them. He thinks it’s funny when Emma puts his socks back on him and he goes right back and pulls them off; he laughs and giggles, drooling excitedly most of the time.

 

One of his chubby feet is sockless while the other one is only halfway covered by the sock he’s pulling off now that he’s laying down. She looks over her shoulder while holding a hand on his stomach in case he starts rolling away – he doesn’t crawl yet, but he loves to roll around, especially when Emma needs him to be still. His sock isn’t on the floor of the nursery, so she shrugs a little and shakes her head in disapproval when she turns back around and a sock almost meets her face.

 

“Ewww.” She scrunches up her nose and makes a face at him. “Stinky feet,” she says in a voice that makes him laugh, the sound of his laughter making her heart glow. “Stinky feet, stinky feet.”

 

Emma distracts him as she changes his diaper and cleans him up with wipes. Snow taught her to do that when he was a little younger. Keeping his focus on something other than what she’s doing normally means he moves less, which means the chances of something going wrong is low.

 

Everything goes smoothly until she gets out the homemade costume she put together for him to wear for their superhero movie night and he starts crying.

 

Snow says there are different kinds of cries – when he’s tired, hungry, needs a diaper change, or just wants attention – but Emma can’t tell the difference.

 

It all sounds the same to her, like a baby crying and crying and crying while she tries to figure out what’s wrong. She feels like she never got the instruction manual or whatever mothers have – and she _should_ know all of this. She is a mother, too. (But not like Snow and Regina, the voice inside her head tells her, not the kind of mother that knows how to do anything. Because she’d never done this with her kid.)

 

“Hey,” she hears as she registers the hand that’s on her back, moving in slow circles. “Hey. It’s okay.”

 

And then Emma realizes that Regina is in the room with her and she’d been holding Neal in her arms and rocking him as she muttered, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” over and over again like he could tell her.

 

“It’s okay,” Regina says again, firmly this time, rubbing both of their backs, one hand on Neal and the other on Emma’s.

 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, even though she doesn’t. For a moment she had panicked, and she hadn’t even been aware she was doing it until everything started to clear when she noticed Regina was beside her.

 

“Do you want me to take him?” Regina questions, not taking her hand from Emma’s back, comforting her while also trying to help with Neal.

 

“I can–” she starts, but she cuts herself off with a long sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

Regina leans in and kisses Emma’s temple. “Talk to me. Let’s work through this together.”

 

And Emma can only nod for a few moments, doesn’t say anything but knows that when she does, Regina’s going to listen and try to understand the best she can – because that’s what Regina does. They can joke and tease and banter and everything else, but when it comes down to it, Regina is the person who listens when Emma needs it, and that’s important to her.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

When she’s finished talking, Regina speaks.

 

Regina tells her about being scared of not being enough for Henry when he was younger.

 

Regina tells her about times he cried and cried and she didn’t know how to make it stop so she tried everything she could think of.

 

Regina tells her how there were still times she couldn’t figure it out in the end, no matter how much she tried.

 

When she’s finished telling Regina about all the ways she feels like she can’t even handle a weekend of taking care of her brother, Regina makes her remember that messing up is normal and they all do it.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Emma takes the steps two at a time, hurrying back to the nursery with the baby bottle she’d went to get after Regina took Neal from her. But when she gets there, Neal is quiet and in Regina’s arms as she sits in the rocking chair with him, looking out of the large window.

 

Standing at the entryway of what used to be Henry’s nursery, looking at Regina rock back and forth as she soothes the baby in her arms, it’s not hard to imagine what she was like with Henry. It’s easy to see her with him at all hours of the night, always wanting to dry his tears and quiet his cries. It’s the kind of thing Emma would have wanted to do for him, and when she gave him up, she had hoped that Henry would have that. She knew what it was like to cry and cry as a child and be ignored, but Henry didn’t – Emma knows this just from watching the way she comforts Neal, not even needing Regina’s stories about being a new mother to know that she’d always been there.

 

Regina glances over towards the door, probably sensing Emma watching her. “I think he was just tired from all the activity,” she whispers.

 

Emma nods and comes into the room all the way. “Guess I packed too much fun into the weekend,” she says with a forced laugh. She’s feeling better, but she’s not really in a joking mood. “And you probably won’t be needing this now.”

 

Regina looks at the bottle in Emma’s hand and shakes her head. “No. He’s already falling asleep,” she says with a gentle smile as she looks down at him.

 

Emma moves over to the chair and looks down as well, at both of them, at Neal’s tiny hand curling up as he brushes his nose with it, making weird faces, and at Regina as she glows from watching him. Emma reaches over to Regina’s hair that falls down and curtains her face. She slowly runs her fingers through it and tucks it behind Regina’s ear.

 

Regina looks up at her, smiling at Emma now, holding her gaze. She tilts her head up and Emma automatically leans down. There’s a sigh when their lips meet, but it’s unclear which of them makes the soft noise.

 

Emma cups her cheek and strokes it with her thumb, smiling against Regina’s plush mouth. She closes her eyes and doesn’t see or hear or think about anything for the moment their lips slowly move together. She only knows the gentle stroke of lips and the quiet sighs of contentment they make.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Psst.”

 

Emma blinks her eyes open, looking towards the light shining in from the open door. Her back cracks as she sits up. She’d fallen asleep slouched over in the window seat in the nursery, and her back is probably going to be giving her hell for it for days. _Great._

 

“Hey, kid.” Emma nods Henry into the room. “What’s up?”

 

“I came to see if we were still doing the movie marathon, but...” He looks around them, at Regina and Neal still in the rocking chair, at Emma yawning.

 

Emma smiles sheepishly. “I guess we all fell asleep.”

 

Henry drops down to the floor and scoots over so his back is against the wall, his legs bent at the knees. “I finished the story I was working on during lunch,” he tells her quietly, shyly.

 

Emma looks down at him on the floor, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah? What’s this one about?”

 

He shrugs his shoulders a little and mumbles, “Family.”

 

Her eyebrow raises ever so slightly. “Wanna elaborate a bit?”

 

He shakes his head. “No, but you can read it later if you want. It’s probably not that good.”

 

“I can?” He rarely lets her read his stories. He’s private with his writing, and when he shares it, it’s usually with Regina.

 

He nods his head. “If you want,” he tells her again.

 

And Emma smiles brightly as she settles back against her own wall. “I’d love to.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The noise is loud and obnoxious.

 

Emma pulls her pillow from beneath her head and covers her ear with it, holding down as she groans. It’s too early to wake up, and it’s _Sunday._ Why is there an alarm going off? And why hasn’t Regina turned it off already?

 

_Jesus fucking..._

 

“Please,” Emma moans beneath her pillow, turning in the bed, squeezing the pillow down on her head. “Turn it off.”

 

She feels the bed shift and the sheet being pulled off her, but the noise doesn’t stop. It’s starting to hurt her head, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to reach that level of wakefulness that means there’s no turning back, no going back to sleep.

 

“Regina,” Emma whines. Her pillow is snatched from out of her grasp and she pouts at the scowling brunette who’d stolen the only thing that was making the noise somewhat bearable.

 

 _“It_ is your crying brother in the next room, and no matter how much you wish and hope, babies do not come with off buttons. If you want him to stop making noise, you need to find out what’s wrong with him.”

 

And then the noise becomes less of generic loud thing and the sound of a baby with powerful lungs trying to get someone’s attention. Emma rolls over in the bed until her feet hit the floor and she awkwardly stands herself up, her blonde hair all over the place as she rubs at her eyes with her hands.

 

Regina throws the pillow down to the bed and steps aside. “You said you would handle this one,” Regina reminds her gently as she watches Emma slowly make her way out of the bedroom.

 

Emma just nods tiredly. She can do this. Regina had woken up with Neal the morning before and they said they would take turns with him. Thankfully he mostly sleeps through the night, but he wakes up before the sun is even up and Emma _really_ doesn’t like being up this early unless she absolutely has to be.

 

“Would you like some coffee?”

 

Emma shakes her head from side to side, pausing outside of the nursery to look back at Regina, who stands at their door with her robe tied around her waist, her hair sleep-mussed and her eyes tired. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no reason for us to both be awake. That’s why we’re taking turns, right? Co-parenting for the weekend, yeah?”

 

Regina gives her a little smile. “We co-parent every day, Emma.”

 

“Yeah, well, Henry’s a lot easier. He doesn’t _scream_ at the top of his lungs,” she says, turning to look at Neal briefly.

 

Regina nods her head. “He’s hungry. His diaper has been changed already. I took care of that a little while ago since I had already been awake.”

 

Emma frowns. “You should have woken me up,” she tells Regina, stepping into the room and turning on the lamp.

 

Neal quiets for a second or two, stops whining completely, and then starts again as soon as Emma is next to the crib. She scoops him up with a grunt and looks him over before holding him to her chest and calmly stroking his back. She bounces on her feet a little as she hums, a trick she picked up from Regina sometime during the weekend, and makes a surprised noise when he quiets down for her. Of course, this means she stops humming, which means he starts crying again.

 

“Right,” she whispers to herself, hand on his small back.

 

And she hums.

 

And she walks around.

 

She hums and walks and doesn’t notice until Neal is no longer whimpering that Regina is not back in bed but standing at the doorway watching her instead, reminding her of the night before when she’d watched Regina with Neal.

 

When their eyes catch and she sees the soft smile on Regina’s lips, the tired but peaceful look on her face, Emma feels warmth spread through her chest as she pictures them like this with Henry. She pictures a life they couldn’t have had but one she still sometimes thinks about when she watches Regina and Henry, a life where they were always together and Emma was there to watch him grow up, a life where she and Regina were always parents together and they took turns on checking on their crying baby in the middle of the night, a life where she had her family all along.

 

It’s a bittersweet thought, but that doesn’t stop her from thinking about it for a little while.

 

But she doesn’t think about it too long, because Emma knows better than to want for what she can’t have and to treasure what she does, and what she has, she thinks as she brushes a kiss across Regina’s cheek and tells her to head back to bed, is more than perfect.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“But why do you have to go today?” Henry asks grumpily, folding his arms as he falls down on the bed in the master bedroom.

 

Regina sighs as she turns around to face him, her earrings in her hand. “Henry, sweetheart, this lunch meeting was already planned before your mother and I decided to have her brother stay here for the weekend. I promise I won’t be long. It should take no longer than forty-five minutes.”

 

“But–”

 

“No, buts, Henry. Here,” Emma says, passing Neal over to him, smiling softly at him. “We can start the movie marathon an hour later. It’s no big deal.” She sits down beside him on the bed and bumps his shoulder with her own. “Besides, maybe we can get your mom to bring back some of that caramel popcorn you like,” she says with a suggestive eyebrow raise directed at Regina as she glances her way.

 

Regina gives her a tiny head nod.

 

Henry huffs. “In an hour, right? No more than that.”

 

“In approximately an hour, yes,” Regina says to him, walking over to stand in front of them. She places her fingers underneath his chin and lifts his head so he is looking at her. “I know you were looking forward to finally being able to show Emma your costume–”

 

Henry shakes his head, absently playing with Neal as he looks at his mother. He’s not the pouting little kid he used to be anymore, but Emma can still see his disappointment. “It’s not that. It’s just, we’ve been having so much fun just hanging out together. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t want that to stop.”

 

Regina leans forward and kisses his forehead, holding her lips there for a few seconds as Henry sighs.

 

Emma smiles at them and gets up from the bed, squeezing Regina’s upper arm.

 

Neal gurgles happily and Regina pulls away from Henry and gives the baby a kiss of his own.

 

Emma clears her throat when Regina stands up. Regina shakes her head with amusement as she places her hands on Emma’s cheek and lifts up ever so slightly on her bare feet. “I’ll be back shortly,” she says before her soft lips meet Emma’s forehead.

 

“I’ll walk you out.” she tells Regina a moment later, and Regina agrees.

 

Regina leaves first to grab a few things from the study that she needs to bring with her, so Emma sits down next to Henry for a quick moment. He studies her face like Regina sometimes does, and she wrinkles her nose. He smiles and looks away, down at Neal.

 

“Do you know how to make a cake?”

 

Emma’s raises an eyebrow, confused. “Huh?”

 

He grins like he’s planning something and says, “While Mom’s gone. Do you?”

 

“Uh. Maybe...”

 

He looks as though he’s contemplating something and says, “Good enough. I know the basics. We’ll have to get started as soon as she leaves.”

 

“Okay...” Emma says slowly. “And what’s the occasion? Her birthday was months ago.”

 

Henry gives her his ‘duh’ look and shakes his head. “I know that. There’s no occasion. I just want to make her a cake.”

 

“Sounds suspicious.”

 

“Emma...” he drags out.

 

What could go wrong with making a cake?

 

“Fine, fine, okay. We can do it.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Emma,” Regina call from downstairs, sounding slightly annoyed.

 

“Kinda hard to walk someone out when you’re still upstairs, Ma,” he points out.

 

“Oh.” Emma jumps up from the bed. “Yeah, you’ve got a point.”

 

Emma rushes down to the first floor, wondering why Henry wants to make a cake and why she has a feeling in her gut that she’s missing something important. His birthday isn’t until August, and it’s not like she needs to be worrying about anniversaries yet. Unless... Emma’s brow wrinkles.

 

“Hey, there’s nothing, uh, special going on this month, right? I mean, I’m not forgetting something like a, I don’t know, special date or something?”

 

Regina gives Emma a strange look as the blonde walks over to her, hands stuffed in her pockets. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why do you ask?”

 

Emma shakes her head and shrugs. “No reason. Maybe I’m just overthinking things.” Maybe Henry just wants cake, Emma mentally says, even though something tells her there’s more to it than that.

 

Regina studies Emma just as Henry had just done. “Are you all right, dear?”

 

Emma nods with confidence. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m just thinking.”

 

“I could tell. It didn’t seem to be going too well for you. You should consider doing it more often so your brain understands what’s going on,” Regina teases with a smirk.

 

“Ha. Ha,” Emma says dryly. “Don’t you need to go? Belle’s probably already there by now.”

 

Regina’s eyes widen a little as she looks at the time and mutters a curse under her breath.

 

“You have everything you need?” Emma asks, following Regina to the door, taking wider steps to keep up with the rushing brunette.

 

“I believe so,” Regina answers as she unlocks the door. “I won’t be gone long, but I have my phone if you should need me.” Regina turns around and gives Emma a look that clearly says _but don’t need me._

 

Emma rolls her eyes a little in response. “Go,” she says, pushing Regina out of the door with a gentle hand.

 

But then she stops her, reaching back for her arm and tightening around it.

 

“But wait,” she says, taking quick steps to follow her out.

 

“What is it?” I have to go, Em–”

 

Emma covers her mouth and silence the rest of her sentence – silences the words but not Regina herself. Regina makes one of those moans she does when Emma knows she’s making her feel weak, the ones that form somewhere deep down below and make Emma shiver when she hears them.

 

Regina cups the back of Emma’s neck and kisses her with fiery passion that makes Emma groan and wants so much more of Regina. But Regina pulls away a few seconds later with heavy-lidded eyes and Emma’s left watching her walk away while her heart races.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: TBA


End file.
